


beautiful

by hellosterfry



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: :(, Aaron Burr Being an Asshole, Alternate Universe - Heathers, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blue Balls, Bombs, Bulimia, Bullying, Burns, Coming Out, Croquet, Eliza is gay, Eliza is sad, F/F, F/M, Faked Suicide, Forgery, Full House references, Genderbending, Ghost!Thomas Jefferson, Ghosts, Gross Hangover Cures, Homophobia, I'M SO SORRY ELIZA, I'M SORRY ELIZA, I'm Sorry, I'm sorry Lin, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Sex, It's minor, James Reynolds is a dick, John is Accepting, John is a Bad Friend, John is a Bit Not Good, Kinda, Lighting Cigarettes from John's Hand, MY POOR CHILD, Maria is Innocent, Maria is gay, Murder, Murder Made to Look Like Suicide, Nightmares, PEGGY IS A RAY OF SUNLIGHT, Period-Typical Homophobia, Self-Harm, Slut Shaming, Smoking, Suicidal Ideation, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Suicide Notes, Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking, Vomiting, accidental murder, alexander hamilton is mysterious, but still a cinnamon bun, by far that's the weirdest tag on here?, eliza is bullied i'M SORRY, eliza is pure, elizababy cry-ler, how else do i tag this there's already so many tAGS, i hate that so much, mentioned fighting, past marliza, peggy my poor daughter, that's it that's the whole chapter, the bulimia is very minor tho, the heathers characters are actually named heather, very brief once again you can skip it and it wouldn't make a difference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-10-23 09:11:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 13
Words: 18,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10716453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellosterfry/pseuds/hellosterfry
Summary: John sat down at the table alone until a male in a dark trench coat and a ponytail sat down with his lunch tray. “You shouldn’t’ve bowed down to the swatch dogs and diet-Coke heads. They’re gonna crush that poor girl,” he sighed, looking at Eliza as she walked out of the lunchroom while reading the note.“I’m sorry, what?” John asked over a mouthful of fish stick.“You've clearly got a soul, you just need to work hard keeping it clean. 'We are all born marked for evil,'” the boy chuckled before picking his tray up to move again.“No, okay, you don’t quote Baudelaire at me and then just walk away. Excuse me? I didn’t catch your name,” John smiled a bit.“Didn’t throw it."(aka the lams heathers au no one needs)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> IT'S THE HEATHERS AU NO ONE WANTED WOO HOO  
> clarifications for this whole thing:  
> \- john isn't trans, her parents were expecting a boy and named her john because they didn't have any girl names picked out  
> \- peggy is heather van rensselaer because she's not related to eliza in this fic  
> \- aaron, thomas, and peggy are all named heather to keep with the "heathers" thing (it's not heathers if you don't have characters nAMED HEATHER)  
> \- eliza and john are friends heck yeah  
> \- henry knox is a girl and is supposed to be mrs. fleming so that's a super brief thing  
> \- i added some side stuff because i didn't just want to have a basically copy-pasted heathers script with the hamilton guys acting it out _i hate that sO MUCH_  
>  i'm a mess please enjoy this

_September 1 st, 1989._

_Dear Diary…_

John sat on a stair, furiously scrawling into her diary.

_I believe I’m a good person. Y’know, I think there’s good in everyone. But here we are! First day of senior year! And I look around at all these kids I’ve known all my life, and I’m asking myself “what happened?”_

She stood when a group of students came running toward the stairs, going either up or down to their next classes. A number of insults were thrown out as certain people passed others, and John sighed. All these kids used to be having fun, playing around as kids. Seriously, _what happened?_ Was it that they were getting older?

John was cut off as someone shoved her into another girl – Angelica. “Sorry!” John managed as Angelica just rolled her eyes and kept walking. Jesus, this wasn’t high school, this was hell. John moved to a secluded corner to add something into her diary.

_But, all that aside, life can be beautiful. I just… I pray for a better way. If we changed once, we can do it again, right? We can be beautiful—_

A shorter male was shoved into John, causing her to nearly rip the page with her pencil on accident. “I’m sorry, are you okay?” she asked, genuinely concerned. It was Philip! She and him used to be swing set buddies in fifth grade! Was he still nice?

“What the hell? Get away, you nerd!” Philip sneered, pulling away.

_Apparently not._

“Sorry,” John repeated as Philip walked away.

Come lunchtime, John was ready for college more than ever. She stood in line with her lunch tray, waiting to grab her milk, until another familiar face smacked the tray out of her hand with a sarcastic “oops!” Of course. Charles Lee. Third year as line-backer, and eighth year of smacking lunch trays. And being a _huge dick._ “Asshole,” John muttered.

“What’d you say to me, _skank?”_ Charles asked, towering over John.

“Ahh, nothing!” John stuttered, leaning against the glass guarding the lunch food until Charles walked away. She sighed and moved to pick up her tray, but a tap on the shoulder startled her. “Liz!” she grinned.

“Hey!” Eliza smiled, kneeling to help John pick up her food. They’d been best friends since diapers, and Eliza was probably the nicest person at school. One of the prettiest, too. But she was still taunted for being sensitive and a baby (because apparently liking Disney movies meant you were a baby). “We still on for movie night?” the brunette piped up.

“Yeah,” John smiled, helping Eliza to her feet, “you’re on Jiffy Pop detail.”

“I rented _Oliver and Company!”_ Eliza beamed, holding her own lunch tray.

“Again?” the taller female chuckled, “don’t you have it memorised by now?”

“What can I say? I’m a sucker for a happy ending.” She sighed with a tiny grin.

“Elizababy Cry-ler! Where’s your pacifier? Wahhh!” A different jock slammed Eliza’s lunch tray to the ground. James Reynolds, quarterback, and the smartest guy on the football team. Which was kind of like being the tallest dwarf.

“Hey, pick that up! Right now!” John yelled as James began to walk back to Charles, hooting and laughing.

James turned around with a taunting grin. “I’m sorry, are you actually talking to me?” the jock asked.

“My buddy Jim just asked you a question,” Charles chimed in, appearing behind James. They quickly exchanged nods.

“Yes, I am! I would _love_ to know what gives you the right to pick on my friend! You’re a high-school has-been waiting to happen! A future _gas station attendant!”_ John felt her cheeks flushing from anger.

James leaned in close, then poked John’s nose. “You have a zit right there,” he stated and shoved her back into Eliza. The two football players ran off after that while laughing.

“You didn’t have to do that, John,” Eliza sighed, moving to collect her lunch.

“I don’t like it when those dicks pick on you, Liz,” John sighed as she helped Eliza pick up her things.

Just then, the cafeteria went silent as the door opened. Three females entered.

The Heathers.

Heather Van Rensselaer, head cheerleader, also known as Yellow Heather. Her dad’s _loaded,_ he’s a Senator. She seemed to be the nicest Heather, too.

Heather Burr, she ran the yearbook, and was more known as Green Heather. No discernible personality or opinions, but her mom did pay for breast implants.

And Heather Jefferson. Red Heather. The Southern charmer. The _almighty._ She was a mythic bitch.

They’re walking Barbie dolls, perfect, never bothered or harassed, and the most worshipped group at Westerburg. John would’ve given anything to be one of them.

“JJ?” Eliza asked softly, tugging John’s sleeve. She snapped out of her thought.

“Yeah, Liz?” John responded, sitting down at their table.

“You don’t have to hang out with me, you know. You could hang out with the Heathers. You’re pretty enough, smart enough, you don’t need me,” the shorter girl smiled, albeit sadly.

“Eliza, don’t say that! They’re all bitches, too, and I’m _not_ a bitch. Plus, you’re my best friend. I can’t leave you,” she frowned before twirling her fork in her spaghetti and taking a bite.

It wasn’t long before Heather Jefferson was approaching their table, clipboard in hand, Heather Van Rensselaer behind her with a tiny grin. “Alright, look, this is what we call a lunchtime poll,” Heather Jefferson sighed. She was probably talked into doing this by Yellow Heather. “So, check it out. You just won five million dollars, okay? And the same day you get the money, aliens say they’re blowing up Earth in two days. What do you do?”

What the fuck.

“Well, I’d probably give the money to charity. I don’t need it, anyway,” Eliza mumbled nervously, fidgeting under Red Heather’s hard glare. John almost frowned.

“Whatever, you?” Heather Jefferson turned to look John up and down.

“Uh. I don’t know. Maybe go to Mars with Eliza, so we don’t blow up,” John answered with a sheepish grin. Eliza smiled at John’s answer.

“That’s nice!” Heather R. piped up, and John didn’t know if it was sarcastic or not. The two Heathers then turned to walk to another table.

The bell rang to signify it was time to go to class, and John quickly scampered to the bathroom. Study hall. She could be late. However, she walked in to find the Heathers doing their makeup. Well, two of them. Heather Burr was nowhere in sight. However, the sound of vomiting rose from a stall.

“Oh, grow up, Heather. Bulimia is _so_ ’87,” Heather J. sneered, applying lip gloss and checking herself out a bit in the mirror.

“Maybe you should see a doctor, Heather!” Heather Van Rensselaer chimed in, looking back at the stall.

“Yeah, Heather, maybe I should,” Heather Burr replied from inside the stall.

John pressed herself to the wall and clutched her diary as Mrs. Knox walked in. “Ah, Heather and Heather,” she sighed. Heather Burr puked again. “And Heather. Maybe you didn’t hear the bell over all the vomiting, you’re late for class.”

“Heather wasn’t feeling well! We’re helping her!” Heather J. spoke up defensively, putting a hand over her heart. John smiled and tore a blank page from her diary, then began scrawling something down.

“Not without a hall pass. Week’s detention-“ Mrs. Knox was interrupted.

“Actually! Mrs. Knox! All four of us are out on a hall pass!” John butted in, handing the teacher the fake pass. “Yearbook committee.”

After inspecting the pass, Mrs. Knox handed it back to John. “Hurry up, get to class,” she ordered before exiting.

Red Heather snatched the pass from John quickly and stared at it. “This is an excellent forgery. Who are you?” she snapped after thrusting the paper into Yellow Heather’s hands.

“Uh.” John blanked. “John. John Laurens. I crave a-“

“John? That’s a boy’s name,” Heather Burr interrupted.

“Shut up, Heather,” Heather Jefferson yelled.

“Sorry Heather,” Green Heather quieted down.

“My parents were expecting a boy, to answer your question,” John smiled at the stall. “But I crave a boon.”

“What boon?” Heather glared.

“Let me sit at your table at lunch, just once, no talking necessary! If people think you guys tolerate me, they’ll leave me alone!” John answered. The three Heathers began laughing. “Before you answer, I also do permission slips, report cards, and absence notes!”

“What about prescriptions?” Heather Burr asked.

“Shut up, Heather!” Heather Jefferson yelled, receiving an apology. She began to inspect John’s face. “For a greasy little nobody, you do have good bone structure. And nice freckles.”

“And a symmetrical face,” Heather R. added as Heather Burr exited the stall. “If I took a meat cleaver down the middle of your skull, I’d have matching halves. That’s very important.” John was mildly creeped out by that.

“You could stand to lose a few pounds,” the new Heather continued.

“Hey! This could be beautiful, Heather. Mascara, lip gloss… Blush… She could work,” Heather J. smiled, then turned back to John, “okay?”

“Okay!” John grinned.

“Let’s go,” Heather smirked, and the four left the school.

The next day at lunch, the lunchroom grew silent as the three Heathers entered. However, a new face behind them caused murmurs to arise, mostly ‘who is that?’s.

“John?” Eliza asked, looking at her transformed friend.

John had ditched her jeans, Converse, and sweatshirts in favour of a short skirt that barely grazed her midthigh, an expensive-looking blue blazer, a button-up, a blue tie, blue knee-highs, and black pumps. Her curls framed her face, different than her usual ponytail or braid, and she wore some makeup as well. She fit in with the Heathers now.

She felt beautiful.

John picked up her lunch with pride, then sat at the coveted Heathers table. She cast Eliza an apologetic look before turning to her new friends. Heather Jefferson was busy staring at Heather Burr’s hair, twirling one of her own dark ringlets around her finger. “Heather, don’t you think Heather would look better with bangs?” she asked.

“Maybe, Heather,” Heather Van Rensselaer replied and took a bite of her sandwich.

“John.” She turned to John. “Wouldn’t Heather look nice with bangs?”

“Uh, sure?” John asked, looking at Heather Burr. Her hair looked nice with its side ponytail, but maybe bangs would work. “Maybe if she feathered them to the side.”

“Ooh, yeah!” Yellow Heather grinned. “Side-feather bangs would look great!”

“I’ll ask my mom,” Heather Burr sighed, picking at her green beans.

“So, John,” Red Heather turned to John again, “why were you hanging out with Elizababy all this time?”

“Her name’s Eliza,” John mumbled. “But we’ve been best friends since like, forever.”

“Didn’t know you hung out with infants,” she sneered before taking a bite of her own green beans. “Heather, binge up. We want to see this later.” Green Heather sighed before slowly taking a bite of her mashed potatoes.

The first day as a Heather was equally hell and heaven for John. However, she couldn’t help but feel someone staring at her. Not just like how everyone noticed her now, but genuinely looking her over all of lunch and considering her. Was this just part of being a Heather?

 _Maybe,_ she thought.

At least James and Charles weren’t smacking her lunch tray anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cOMmENTs mAKE Me MOtIVateD
> 
> [scream at me on tumblr](http://hellosterfry.tumblr.com)  
> [scream at me on instagram](http://www.instagram.com/fronku_)
> 
> this fic probably won't have a consistent update rate because i'm a big dumb mess  
> shoutout to v if you're seeing this thanks for helping me with stuff  
> see y'all in the next chapter


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Jeez, John, drool much?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello i am back with more gross content for you to feast your eyes on  
> i may or may not have written an epilogue to this chapter that may or may not get posted tonight. and it may or may not involve a certain good boy that birdloaf graced this planet with.  
> ANYWAY  
> enjoy my gross content

_Dear Diary,_

_It’s been three weeks since I became friends with the Heathers! Well, not exactly friends. It’s more like they’re my co-workers, and our job is being popular and shit._

John scribbled an entry into her diary before an old friend walked up to her. “Eliza!” she smiled, closing the book.

“John,” Eliza looked her once-best friend up and down, “you really do look beautiful these days.”

“Well, it’s still the same me underneath,” John responded.

“Are you sure?” the brunette asked.

“Look, I’m sorry I flaked on movie night last week, I just have a lot going on,” she apologised.

“I get it, you took my advice and you’re hanging out with the Heathers now. That’s exciting,” Eliza offered a weak smile.

“It’s whatever, but-“

“John, Heather wants you to haul ass to the table, pronto!” Heather B. interrupted, grabbing John by the wrist and dragging her away.

“I’ll call you!” John called as she was pulled to the other Heathers.

“Johnny, I need a forgery in Maria Lewis’s handwriting,” Heather Jefferson ordered through a mouthful of salad as she stood by the trash can. “You’ll need something to write on… Heather, bend over.”

Heather Burr sighed and bent over as John took a pen and some paper that Heather J. handed her, then looked at the handwriting sample. “Hey beautiful, I’ve been watching you and thinking about us in the old days. I hope you can come to Chuck’s homecoming party this weekend as my plus-one. I miss you. ‘Ria,” Heather J. giggled as John wrote down what she’d said. “Oh! And put some X’s and O’s by the signature!”

“How very,” John sighed as she added the X’s and the O’s. “Who’s this for, anyway?”

“I just found out that Maria used to hang with Elizababy Cry-ler,” Heather J. snickered.

“Well, yeah, in kindergarten. We all did,” John responded quietly. Now she felt bad.

“Well we didn’t all kiss on the kickball field,” Heather B. added.

“Oh, that’s right! I remember Maria kissed Elizababy Cry-ler! It was so weird,” Heather J. scoffed. Just then, Maria walked by with her friend, Catherine. The two were giggling about a new Seinfeld episode when Heather pulled Maria aside. “’Ria, be a sweetie and give this to Cry-ler for me please?” She asked, batting her eyelashes a bit and putting the note in Maria’s hand.

“Uh, what is it?” Maria hummed and tried to open it.

“Oh, don’t read it! She’s having an extra heavy flow lately and wanted some advice from my gyno,” Heather improvised quickly. Maria looked at the note in disgust before heading to Eliza’s table, plopping the note in front of her, and sashaying away to her own table.

“Heather, that was so uncool,” John mumbled, crossing her arms.

“How? That’ll give her shower-nozzle masturbation material for _weeks._ ” Heather Burr scoffed.

“Shut up, Heather!” Heather Jefferson yelled.

“Sorry, Heather,” Heather Burr looked down.

“Eliza’s had a thing for Maria for like, twelve years now. This’ll kill her,” John frowned.

“Are we gonna have a problem?” Heather J. scoffed, folding her arms. “Why are you pulling on my dick, do you _want_ your little face slapped off? We _created_ you. If it weren’t for me, Heather, and Heather, you’d be a greasy little nobody playing hide and seek with Barbies in Elizababy’s nursery. She’s not your friend anymore, stop being a pussy.”

The bell rang, and Heather jerked her head toward the door. “C’mon, Heather. Heather. John, figure out where your loyalty lies, and if you’re not a lame-ass, you know where to go after school,” Red Heather spoke, her Southern accent barely vicious.

The Heathers left, and John sat down at the table alone until a male in a dark trench coat and a ponytail sat down in front of her with his lunch tray. “You shouldn’t’ve bowed down to the swatch dogs and diet-Coke heads. They’re gonna crush that poor girl,” he sighed, looking at Eliza as she walked out of the lunchroom while reading the note.

“I’m sorry, what?” John asked over a mouthful of fish stick.

“You've clearly got a soul, you just need to work hard keeping it clean. 'We are all born marked for evil,'” the boy chuckled before picking his tray up to move again.

“No, okay, you don’t quote Baudelaire at me and then just walk away. Excuse me? I didn’t catch your name,” John smiled a bit.

“Didn’t throw it,” he grinned in return as he sat back down.

“Hey, sweetheart!” A familiar duo walked up behind the boy. James and Charles. James stuck his thumb in the middle of the boy’s fish stick. “What’d your boyfriend say when he found out you were moving to Sherwood, Ohio?”

After a moment without a response, Charles flicked the back of his head. “My buddy Jim just asked you a question,” he teased. John opened her mouth to speak, but the boy offered a smile and a head shake. She slowly closed her mouth.

“Chuck, doesn’t the cafeteria have a no-fags allowed rule?” James asked.

“Well, seems they have an open door policy for assholes,” the boy shot back casually.

It took a moment for the two to process his words. “Creole bastard, grab his arms!” Charles yanked the male out of his seat and tried to hold him, but he ripped out of the taller male’s grip and punched him in the jaw. James tried to grab him, but only got a kick to the nuts. John quickly grabbed her diary.

_Dear diary,_

_Why is it that when you see guys fight it looks awful yet… correct? I shouldn’t be watching this, I’m a good kid. But with this guy? **Damn.** I’d love for him to fight for me, y’know? He’s a good puncher. He’s lasting pretty long, too. I want to hold his hand and have him carry me through a desert when I’m weak… That sounds weird. Shit. I wonder if we could be together and he’d still act like he does. Y’know. Happy. Proud. I guess. But about the fighting thing, I’d do the same for him if he’d do it for me._

“Jeez, John, drool much?” a clear voice rang from behind her, and John turned to see Maria. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’ve got a thing for Mister Mysterious.”  
“Maybe,” John hummed as Charles backed out of the cafeteria, “or maybe I just appreciate how people can actually finish their fights without wimping out.”

Maria giggled softly and patted John’s shoulder. “You going to the homecoming party?” she asked.

“I think. Heather wanted to take me there and try it, so maybe I’ll show up,” the other female responded. James limped away after Charles as Mr. Mysterious wiped the small bit of blood running from his nose.

The rest of the day passed slowly, and John decided that she didn’t want to go back to being picked on. Which brought her to where she was now.

“Are you gonna go for the two shots?” Heather Burr asked as Heather Jefferson approached with her mallet.

“You’re such a pillowcase, god. Did you have a brain tumour for breakfast? First you ask to be red. I’m red. _I’m always red,”_ Heather J. scoffed as she placed her foot on her own croquet ball, then whacked the green ball out past one of the trees in John’s backyard.

Heather Burr sighed as she moved to make her own shot, and after the ball clunked against two trees and a fence, it went through a hoop. Heather Van Rensselaer cheered, John clapped, and Heather Jefferson just sighed.

John’s parents emerged, Mrs. Laurens carrying a tray of pate. Heather R. turned to face the other Heathers. “Hey, guys! My dad’s here, come with me if you want a ride!” she called, greeting John’s parents and dashing out of the backyard. The other two Heathers followed suit, but Heather Jefferson didn’t even spare a glance at the two adults.

“So, John, any plans for this weekend?” Eleanor, John’s mother asked. “Homecoming’s almost here, anyone you’re considering?”

“Oh, maybe,” John hummed with a grin, taking a bite of pate. “Heather’s taking me to the homecoming party at Chuck’s tonight, so he may be there. I don’t know, he’s not really popular, I don’t think.”

Henry, John’s father, sighed. “God damn, won’t anyone tell me why I read this stupid spy novels?” he asked.

John giggled. “Because you’re an idiot,” she answered playfully.

“Oh yeah, that’s it,” Henry smiled before taking a drag of his cigarette.

“You two,” Eleanor smiled.

“Hey, Mom, great pate, but I gotta motor if I wanna be ready for the party tonight,” John stated before dashing inside.

John quickly changed into a skirt and sweater, pulled on some flats, then called her ride. “Hey, Heather, I’m ready to go,” she spoke once the female picked up the phone.

“M’kay. I’ll be over in a few,” Heather J. responded before the line went dead. John laid back on her mattress, rummaged around in her top drawer, then pulled out her pack of cigarettes and lighter. She grabbed one from the pack and rested the cigarette between her lips, slid the pack into a pocket on her skirt, lit her cigarette, then slid the lighter beside her pack. She exhaled a cloud of smoke before Heather honked from outside.

“John, we’re stopping at 7/11 before we go to the party. I want Corn Nuts,” Heather informed her as she slid in.

“Okay,” John responded, and Heather drove off. They took turns either humming or singing along to the radio, and John stepped out of the car when they pulled into the 7/11.

“Corn Nuts!” Heather repeated.

“BQ or plain?” John sighed, putting out her cigarette on the brick of the building.

Heather looked mortified. “BQ!” she yelled. John rolled her eyes and walked inside.

“Greetings and salutations. Gonna pull a super-chug with that?” A familiar male asked. John turned with a smile, holding two packs of BQ Corn Nuts in her hand.

“No, but if you’re nice, I’ll let you buy me a slushie,” John answered. “You seem to know your convenience store speak.”

“I’ve been moved around seven times, there’s always a 7/11. Grab a slushie, eat a hot dog, never changes anywhere. Keeps me sane,” he responded.

“Ah. You _still_ haven’t told me your name, by the way,” she hummed.

“Alexander Hamilton. Alex preferred,” he grinned. “What about you? Are you a Heather?”

“No, I’m a John. John Laurens,” she replied.

“Isn’t John a boy’s name?” Alex raised a brow.

“My parents didn’t pick out any girl names and were pretty surprised to see they didn’t have a little boy come out.” She leaned against the counter.

“Ah. Now, cherry or Coke slushie?” Alex smirked.

“Cherry.”

A honk came from outside, and John rolled her eyes. “Gotta go. Talk to you Monday?” she asked as Alex handed her the slushie and payed for it.

“Sure. See you then,” he leaned against the counter, watching as John walked to the car.

Damn, she sure was cute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YES I HAVE TO WORK IN MARIA BECAUSE I LOVE HER A LOT SHE NEEDS MORE LOVE FROM THIS FANDOM  
> kind of like how the internet needs less founding fathers slumber party. google it. you'll see what i mean.  
> also i probably won't have an update schedule. i'm a busy bee.
> 
> [scream at me on tumblr](http://hellosterfry.tumblr.com)  
> [scream at me on instagram](http://www.instagram.com/fronku_)
> 
> i wrote this while i was supposed to be doing english homework on schoology. i still don't know what poetry shit is. my name's not philip, i'm not a poet, i can't rhyme and i'm about to show it, and i want to die, please leave me comments okay now bYE


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You _pig!_ ” she shrieked, “I _made_ you! _I saved you from the mud of the school! And this is how I’m rewarded?! **I got paid in puke!** ”_
> 
> John fumed. She was _fed up_ with Heather’s bullshit. “Lick it up, baby! _Lick it up!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a psa, i love all the characters i've made mean in this story. there isn't a single character in hamilton i hate. ending that psa.  
> so hello! i am back with chapter three, please enjoy!  
> warnings: overusing italics, vomit, mentioned and extremely vague non-con, underage drinking. i'm sorry, lin.  
> also  
> [READ THE OTHER THING I WROTE IT TAKES PLACE AFTER CHAPTER TWO AND IT'S FUCKING RIDICULOUS](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10733124)

“Alright, John,” Heather sighed as she parked the car, “this is your _first_ big high school party as a popular kid. Mess this up, and it’s keggers with kids for the rest of your senior year.”

“How do you even get into this shit?” John asked.

“Look, John. Everyone at Westerburg either wants me as a friend or a fuck. I’m the most worshiped person at this school, and I’m only a junior. That’s how.” And with that, Heather was out of the car and striding toward the Lee house confidently. John clambered behind her.

“Oh, hell yeah, Heather’s here!” Charles yelled after opening the door. “John Laurens, welcome!”

“Yo, John’s here?” A male yelled. Within moments, a familiar face joined Charles at the door. George Eacker, another football player, and one John wasn’t very fond of. Well, he _was_ a football player for Westerburg, but now he was in college. He whispered something to Charles and they both laughed.

“Come on in, ladies,” Charles grinned, voice barely slurring as he stepped aside. Heather and John made their way into the kitchen and Heather grabbed a solo cup.

“Do you drink?” Heather mused, taking a swig from her cup.

“No,” John answered, leaning against the counter.

“Well, tonight, you do. Chug,” Heather responded, shoving a solo cup into John’s hands. She slowly drank the booze, wrinkling her nose at the taste, but downing it anyway. She wanted to be popular, so she had to learn Heather Burr’s tactics: talk less, smile more, and the art of the compromise (hold your nose, close your eyes).

Maria stumbled in, her two choir friends (Marie-Joseph Paul… whatever his fucking full name was… de la Fayette and Hercules Mulligan) behind her. “Heather,” Maria grinned, obviously displeased to see the female.

“Maria,” Heather’s voice held the same tone, “cute cardigan.” The sarcasm was dripping from her words.

“Oh, thanks. Bought it from the Limited, totally blew my whole allowance on it,” Maria replied.

“Maria!” a too-distinctive voice called. John felt sick, she _knew_ who that was. Eliza came trotting in, holding a glass bottle and a note. _The_ note. “Thank you so much for inviting me to be your plus-one to this party, I thought you’d never want to be my friend again!”

“Huh?” Maria asked, looking to Hercules and Lafayette, then back to Eliza. “I _never_ invited you to be my plus-one, Chuck’s parties don’t allow for those. God, you’re so fucking creepy, Cry-ler!” Her words ended in a laugh, and the three moved to another room.

“Eliza, maybe you should give that to Jim! He’d probably let you stay,” Heather grinned, obviously plotting something. John’s stomach twisted. This was _her_ fault, she shouldn’t have gone with the Heathers. She should’ve listened to Alex. Fuck.

“Okay,” Eliza nodded, moving to go find James.

“I’ll be back,” Heather smiled, leaving John alone to sit on the counter and drink more of the alcohol.

xx

 

They sucked at each other’s lips for a moment, a soft moan escaping before Heather pulled away. “Look, George, I can’t do this, okay?” she frowned softly.

“You look so good tonight, though,” George smiled, looking Heather up and down. “I can’t help myself.”

With a soft sigh, Heather sank to her knees in front of George, unzipping his pants and pulling down his boxers.

After ten minutes she stood in the bathroom, drinking a cup of beer. She stared at herself in the mirror, then spit the alcohol at her reflection.

 

xx

 

“There’s my new favourite girl,” Charles smirked, kissing John’s neck. John shoved at his chest with a pout. “Aw, don’t be such a buzzkill, what’s wrong?”

“Look, Chuck, I don’t feel well, alright?” John sighed.

“I know, booze is new and hard for you… I can help,” Charles leaned in to press their lips together, but John shoved at him again.

“Y’know, Chuck, I have a speech for my suitors if they go outside my comfort zone,” John began. “Gee, blank, tonight’s been fun and all, but-“

“Save the speeches for Seabury’s class,” Charles grinned, and John could feel him undressing her with his eyes. “I just wanna get laid.”

John was disgusted. “You don’t deserve my fucking speech,” she breathed with a glare before sliding off the counter and meeting up with Heather.

“Where’ve you been? You’re acting like such a prude,” Heather scoffed.

“Look, Heather, I’ve had a lot of fun tonight and all, but I seriously feel really sick. Can you _please_ take me home?” John begged softly.

“No! Hell no!” Heather gasped.

“Jim, there you are! I’m sorry to show up uninvited, but I brought this for you! May I stay?” Eliza’s voice rang over the music, and John’s stomach tightened.

“What the fuck! There’s no alcohol in here!” James yelled, and the sound of spitting was heard. “Are you _trying_ to poison me?!”

A whimper cut to John’s ears. Chants of ‘Elizababy Cry-ler! Wah wah!’ were heard from the same direction. Crying. John covered her mouth, but it was all coming up at once. She vomited on Heather’s shirt, covering the red fabric in stomach acid and whatever else was in the mix. Heather screamed.

“You _pig!”_ she shrieked, “I _made_ you! I saved you from the _mud of the school! And this is how I’m rewarded?! **I got paid in puke!**_ ”

John fumed. She was _fed up_ with Heather’s bullshit. “Lick it up, baby! _Lick it up!”_ she yelled in response, kissed her cheek, then stormed out of the house. She could feel people watching her as she went, but she didn’t care. She ran to her home and then to her room, ignoring her parents as she grabbed her diary and broke down into tears.

_Dear diary,_

_I want to kill, and you have to believe me that this is for a good reason. Heather Jefferson has to be stopped. This is more than a little blip in my menstrual cycle, I promise. This would help out more people than me._

She stopped writing when her window was opened. Alex. “Apologies for my dreadful etiquette, my dearest, Laurens. But I saw croquet set up in your backyard, and was wondering if you wanted to play a round?” he asked.

How did he find her house? Whatever. John didn’t care. She needed to take her mind off things.

“Let’s try something a bit more… A bit more creative,” she smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE LEAVE ME A COMMENT THEY MAKE ME SO H APPY
> 
>  
> 
> [scream at me on tumblr](http://hellosterfry.tumblr.com)  
> [scream at me on instagram](http://www.instagram.com/fronku_)
> 
>  
> 
> shoutout to sterling and averie i love you two  
> see you in the next chapter ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Dear Diary,_  
>  I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but I stopped Heather Jefferson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> murder warning???????? oh my god they did it???????????  
> i actually really love thomas jefferson so writing this killed me.  
> i'm sorry for being dead (my name's heather) (no it's not) (shaky gun emoji @ self) but i had a severe case of writer's block and a competition! my orchestra went to branson for music in the parks, but we won first place!! woohoo!!  
>  **(congratulate me i'm a slut for validation)**  
>  but, yeah. enjoy.

“I’d like to thank you for that, John, that was my first game of strip croquet,” Alex smiled, holding John close as they cuddled up under his coat.

“Better than ripping off all our clothes and mindlessly fucking against a swing set like Heather said her first time was like,” John hummed.

“Well, it’s not like we were- Oww!” Alex chuckled as John bit at his shoulder with a stupid grin.

“What a life,” John sighed, looking at Alexander and his barely-there peach fuzz. “I just attended Chuck’s homecoming party, my first big party, and had my first drink. I threw up on my first person, Heather. Now you’re my first.”

“I’m your first?” Alex raised his brows a bit.

John hummed, then kissed him. “I was supposed to be put into high school when I finished sixth grade because I’m some sort of prodigy child, now I’m using my prodigy-child skills to figure out how to make people like me and what colour gloss to wear,” she mused between pecks.

“Mm. Heather Jefferson… She’s one bitch that deserves to die,” Alex responded thoughtfully.

“Killing her won’t do anything,” John frowned. “I blew chunks on her new shirt, I’m pretty sure I’m done with her, thank God.”

“Mhm…” Alex leaned in for another kiss, and soon enough, John was asleep on his chest.

_“Hello, slut!” Heather Jefferson sang, sitting in front of John._

_The shorter female sat up, using Alex’s coat to cover herself. “What the fuck?! Heather, how did you get here?” John yelled._

_“Oh, sugar, I’m just like oxygen. I’m everywhere,” Heather cackled. “Sleeping with Mr. New-Psycho-Kid after throwing up on me? I’m going to **crucify you** for this!”_

_“Why are you so hellbent on hurting me?” John shouted, growing frustrated._

_“Because I can! It’ll be very!” Heather snorted, and the student body materialised behind her. They all began to chant, “very! Very! Very!”_

John sat up, screaming and covering her ears. Alex jolted and wrapped his arms around John, smoothing her hair and pulling her to his chest. “John!” he yelled.

John slowly quieted, panting and trembling. “Alex?” she asked.

“Christ, you’re soaking wet. What happened?” Concern laced his voice, his brows drawn together.

“I have to get to Heather’s house.” John stood, quickly pulling on her clothes and treading to her fence.

“Whoa, I thought you were done with Heather!” Alex was growing confused.

“Yeah? Well life without Heather was a great fantasy, but I can’t hide from her forever. She’s got eyes everywhere. I’ve gotta go kiss her aerobicized ass now,” John stated as she walked determinedly to Heather Jefferson’s home. “Plus, she  skips the Saturday morning trip to Grandma’s even if she’s _not_ hungover.”

The duo entered through Heather’s back door. “Heather?” John called hesitantly.

“What?” a Southern female groaned from her bedroom.

John lightly moved to her room, Alex following close behind. Heather looked at the two blearily as they entered. “Johnny. Billy the Kid. Why’re you here?”

“Heather, I want to apologise-“

“Apologise. I hope you brought fucking knee pads, honey,” Heather glared with a smile. “Bring me a prairie oyster, and I _might_ consider it.”

With a sigh, John strode back to the kitchen. “Prairie oyster. What the living hell is a prairie oyster, Lexi?” she yelled, turning to face Alex.

“Uh, raw egg, vinegar, hot sauce… worcestershire sauce, salt, and pepper,” Alex guessed. John mixed the ingredients together in a mug, then coughed up a phlegm globber into the mix with a laugh.

“Okay, we’ll serve-“ She was cut short when she noticed Alex pouring drain-o into a glass. “What are you doing?”

“I’m more of a no-rust build-up man, myself,” Alex grinned. He held up the glass.

“You’re not funny, jerk. She wouldn’t drink that shit, anyway. It’s obvious,” John hummed, stirring the disgusting concoction with a spoon.

“So… We’ll put it in a mug.” Alex poured the blue liquid into a mug identical to the hangover-mix mug. “She won’t know she’s drinking ol’ Big Blue here. Plus, it’ll end her hangover.”

“Yeah, and her life. Pour that down the drain where it belongs,” John rolled her eyes.

“Chicken,” Alex chuckled, then began to make chicken noises.

“Still not funny,” John frowned turning to pick up her mug.

“Hey.” Alex moved to stand in front of her, placing the mug of drain cleaner beside the mug of non-toxic, disgusting shit. “I’m sorry, okay?” He pressed their lips together, and John melted against him. She rested one hand against his shoulder.

“Prairie oyster! Chop chop!” Heather yelled from her room.

John grabbed the mug of death blindly as she pulled away from Alex. He noticed, but elected to say nothing. They walked into Heather’s room again and John offered the mug. “Heather, I’m really sorry, okay? We both-“

“That’s not begging. Get on your knees in front of your little boytoy here, and restart.” Heather snatched the mug from her.

Alex looked away as John sank to her knees in front of Heather’s bed. “We both said a lot of shit we didn’t mean last night, y’know? Can we just-“

John was interrupted by her yet again, but she was choking this time as she dropped the mug onto her floor.

She’d drunk the liquid drainer.

Heather grabbed her throat, choking and crying out. “Corn Nuts!” she managed before staggering to her glass table and falling, breaking it in two. The shards managed to cut her and draw blood, but she didn’t notice because of the burning sensation in her throat. She clutched at her neck for another moment before going limp.

Fuck.

_Fuck!_

_“Fuck!”_ John yelled, crawling to Heather. “Alex, _why didn’t you tell me I grabbed the drainer?!_ I just… I just killed my best friend!”

“And your worst enemy,” Alex added.

“ _Same difference!”_ John screamed. “Call 911!”

“It’s a little late for that,” Alex sighed, kneeling beside John. “Damn, didn’t think you had it in ya.”

“’ _Didn’t think I had it in me-‘_ I’m gonna have to send my SAT scores to San Quentin instead of Stanford…” John held her head, clutching her stomach. She felt sick.

“What’re we gonna tell the fuckin’ cops? ‘Fuck it if she can’t take a joke, Sarg?’” Alex shrugged with an unsure expression and looked at John.

“The cops…” John covered her mouth as she let out a soft sob.

“Wait. We committed a murder… And that’s a crime,” Alex spoke up as he stood. “But what if this were like a suicide thing?”

“Like a suicide thing?” John repeated and slowly looked to him.

“Yeah,” Alex nodded, “you can forge writing, right? Just forge us a deep-sounding suicide note, and we don’t have to get a mugshot for a mug-shot of drainer.”

John looked to Heather’s table. She noticed a copy of _The Bell Jar_ , paper, and a pen. Shit. She picked up the pen and paper, then began to think.

“I had pain in my path,” Alex offered.

“Like Sylvia Plath,” John continued, but shook her head.

“My problems were myriad,” Alex tried.

“I was having my period!” John chimed in with an overdone Southern accent, then laughed. She laughed some more before looking to Heather’s corpse and realising what they’d done. “ ** _Oh my god!_** ”

“John! We could go to jail for this! Get your head on straight, this isn’t fucking funny!” Alex shouted.

“Alright, alright,” John thought for a moment. “Heather wouldn’t use the word myriad. She missed it on the vocab test two weeks ago.”

“Badge of her failures at school. Work with me, doll,” Alex responded.

“Okay…” She placed the pen on the paper. “You… may think what I’ve done is shocking,” John began, writing what she’d said. The forgery was uncanny.

“But to me, suicide is the logical answer to the myriad of problems life has given me,” Alex joined in.

“People think just because you’re beautiful, life is easy and fun No one understood that I had feelings, too,” John continued.

“I die knowing no one knew the real me,” Alex finished. John ripped the paper off of the rest of the pad, placing it on the copy of _The Bell Jar_ before she and Alex dashed out of the house.

_Dear Diary,_

_I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but I stopped Heather Jefferson. I put an end to my problems, but now I have this huge fucking guilt cloud hanging over me. I didn’t mean to kill her! Alex poured her a cup of drain-o and I didn’t know I’d given it to her until she drank it and died… That sounds bad! Shit! I sound like I’m crazier than a shithouse rat._

John sighed as she set down her pencil. Was this really what her life had come to? First she was wrapped up in drama, now she’s wrapped up in crime. She moved to write two more words.

_How very._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chudley has seen john's and alex's work and laughs from where he guards the portal to hell behind the 7/11  
> as always:
> 
> [scream at me on tumblr](http://hellosterfry.tumblr.com)  
> [scream at me on instagram](http://www.instagram.com/fronku_)
> 
> wow sterling back at it again with the writing when u gotta do homework gOOD JOB  
> shoutout to evan/jd because he's a great qpp and shoutout to weiss because she's the best girlfriend ever  
> see y'all in the next chapter  
> PLEASE LEAVE ME COMMENTS THEY MOTIVATE ME SO MUCH


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Dear diary,  
>  Life without Heather is strangely incomplete. She’s not there to tell Heather to throw up, or Heather to stop butting in, or me to learn how to accessorise. It’s nice to not to have her on my ass, but it’s also lonely without someone in charge. I need a leader so I don’t fall back to being bullied again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello there here is more gross content but less gross content than usual,,  
> i might post more later because this is only 1150-ish words and that's like super short for me plus i feel like this chapter's kind of low quality? like ew. it's finals week and i'm drained emotionally and creatively. sincerest apologies.

“C’mon, Wash, Heather Jefferson’s not your everyday suicide,” Coach Greene sighed out a cloud of smoke, looking at the principal blearily. “You should cancel classes.”

“No way, Coach,” the principal, Mr. Washington, responded. “If I let these kids out before noon, switchboard’s gonna light up like a Christmas tree.”

“I must say, I’m impressed to see her correct usage of the word ‘myriad’ in her suicide note after brutalising it on her vocabulary test,” Mr. Jay hummed, rolling his eyes.

Mrs. Knox blew out a puff of smoke before protesting, “I just find it profoundly disturbing that, despite this _tragedy_ among our youth we’ve heard of, we only want to discuss proper mourning times and correct vocabulary usages.”

“Good Lord,” Mr. Washington sighed, rubbing his temples.

“We must _bask_ in this, students and teachers alike! I say we gather everyone into the cafeteria and just talk and feel! Together!” Mrs. Knox finished, standing.

“Thank you, Ms. Knox. Call me when the shuttle lands.” Mr. Washington turned to Coach Greene. “Is this the Heather that’s a cheerleader?”

“That would be Heather Van Rensselaer, sir,” the coach answered.

Mr. Washington snapped his fingers. “Damn, I’d be willing to go half a day for a cheerleader. Just an hour, then. I hate Mondays.”

 

xx

 

“Oh my god, this is just so… Unfair!” Heather Van Rensselaer exclaimed, folding her arms. “This is Heather, we should be getting a whole week off! Not just a lousy hour.”

Heather looked back from where she was chewing on a sandwich. “Write the school board,” she suggested.

“Watch out, Heather. You might actually be _digesting,”_ John quirked a brow.

“Yeah, where’s the urge to purge?” Heather Van Rensselaer asked.

“Fuck it,” Heather Burr responded before shoving the rest of the sandwich in her mouth. “C’mon, let’s get moving. One more tardy to Jay and my ass is grass.”

“Ooh shit, yeah.” Heather V. dashed after Heather B. as John sank down to write in her diary.

_Dear diary,_

_Life without Heather is strangely incomplete. She’s not there to tell Heather to throw up, or Heather to stop butting in, or me to learn how to accessorise. It’s nice to not to have her on my ass, but it’s also lonely without someone in charge. I need a leader so I don’t fall back to being bullied again._

“John.”

John looked up to see a soft smile. Eliza.

“Lizzie, what’s up?” John grinned as she stood.

“I was just coming to check on you, now that Heather’s dead and all,” Eliza tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and adjusted her sleeve.

“I’m fine, sorry we can’t hang out anymore. I really-“

“No, it’s fine. You have better friends that’re more interesting and shit. I get it,” Eliza sighed. “Same with ‘Ria, same with Herc’, same with everyone.”

“Johnny!” Fuck. Jim. “Why’re you talking to Cry-ler?”

“Eliza, go to my house, let’s hang out after school,” John whispered. Eliza nodded and dashed off before James and Charles approached. “Hey, guys. Uh, _Eliza_ was just making sure I was doing fine after Heather’s death.”

“Thought you didn’t hang out with babies anymore, John,” Charles laughed.

“I don’t! She was just being nice, chill out,” John glared at the taller males.

“Whatever, after Heather’s funeral, I was gonna take Heather V. on a double date, but Chuck needs a date,” James quirked a brow expectantly.

“Jim, I appreciate the offer, but-“

“Great! See you then,” Chuck kissed John on the lips and the two ran off, hooting and whooping.

“Don’t those two have class?” A southern female hummed. John turned, in shock, to see Heather Jefferson standing there.

“Heather?!” John nearly shrieked.

Heather coughed out some blue liquid before looking to John. “John, why’d you have to kill me? My afterlife sucks, I keep coughing out drain-o! If I sing Kumbaya one more time, I’m gonna scream,” her voice was sad.

“Heather, it-“ John, once again, was cut off.

“John Laurens, why’re you still out here?” Principal Washington asked as he approached her. “You should be in class.”

John didn’t know what to do anymore. Too many people had been speaking to her, she was overwhelmed, and she just wanted to be alone. She held her head and let out a soft sob. Why was she crying? She didn’t want to cry! But she couldn’t help it. Tears fell from her eyes as she let herself whimper and cry quietly.

“Heather’s death must’ve been hard on you, since you two were close. Go home, John,” Mr. Washington shook his head sadly. “Rest up.”

“Sir-“

“Go home,” the principal insisted before continuing to walk on. John wiped her face with her fist. How could she say no to that? She picked her things up and began walking down the hall, then out of the school.

 

xx

 

“Oh my god, this is gonna be so great, man!” Charles giggled, looking at James as they snuck up behind the sleeping cow.

Heather and John exchanged exasperated looks. They’d been on a date, but Charles and James had proceeded to get shitfaced and were now trying to tip cows. Heather whispered a soft apology to the other female.

“Is he sleeping?” James slurred, cocking his head.

“I think so. Get on my side, cow tipping is so fucking great!” Charles laughed, covering his mouth.

“Oh my _god_ shut up! Punch it in,” James whispered after stumbling up beside Charles. The two sloppily fist bumped and giggled.

“Count of three.” Charles counted to three quietly before the two jocks shoved the sow, successfully tipping it. The sow landed in mud, which splashed onto Heather’s and John’s faces and clothes. The males laughed hysterically and pointed.

“John, baby,” Charles cooed after a few moments, “wanna do somethin’?” He stumbled toward her.

John stepped away, obviously annoyed and pissed. “Yeah, go home,” she replied. Heather walked toward the car, then slid in and locked it. “Heather, lemme in.”

“Nah,” Heather replied. John sighed and began to hike up the hill. James and Charles followed after her, Charles asking for her to suck his dick. She climbed the fence as he collapsed in a heap, but James tried to follow her over. He slid off.

“What is this shit.”

Alex. Thank _god_. “I’m doing a favour for Heather. Tried to tell you after the funeral, but you motored off before I could,” John sighed, looking to her boyfriend perched atop his motorcycle.

“Baby, please, you’re makin’ my balls so motherfuckin’ blue…” Charles slurred, looking up at John. She shot him a look from where she stood.

“Another fucking Heather,” Alex sighed out a cloud of cigarette smoke. “Sorry, I’m feeling a little _superior_ tonight. Seven different schools and the only thing that changes is my locker combination.” John shook her head and sighed again, smiling. Alex returned the smile. “Our love is god. Let’s go get a slushie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [scream at me on tumblr](http://hellosterfry.tumblr.com)   
>  [scream at me on instagram](http://www.instagram.com/fronku_)
> 
> PLEASE LEAVE ME COMMENTS THEY MAKE ME SO HAPPY AND MOTIVATED
> 
> shoutout to tabby if she's reading this because i love her  
> and shoutout to sterling and averie, i don't know if i've already given those two nerds shoutouts before but they're like the heather d. and heather m. to my heather c. and i love them   
> see you guys in the next chapter  
> (also if you look @ my instagram i cosplayed jd at a convention and i looked pretty fly for a poor guy)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Jim and I died the day we realised we could never reveal our forbidden love to a uncaring and ununderstanding world. The joy we shared in each other’s arms was greater than any touchdown, yet we were forced to live a lie of Sexist, Beer-Guzzling, Asshole Jocks."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHAT TIME IS IT _SUMMERTIME_  
>  ok but school's out for me, so i'll probably be finishing this up soon, hell yeah!  
> on another note, this entire fic has been completely un-beta'd, so if anyone would like to be my beta reader, my email's on my profile. i really, really would like a beta reader so i can get some feedback before i post my gross content.  
> now then, onto the gross content you're here for. it's barely spicy in some parts and there's some sexy reference, but i mean if you've made it this far you should be fine.

“Look, Mads, I’m not belittling your fundraiser to help out sick kids who can’t pay for the doctor, but we’re talkin’ teenage suicide! Ask Angelica here, the number one song in America? Teenage Suicide (Don’t Do It) by BigFun,” Hercules looked back at Angelica, who nodded approvingly with a smile before glancing down at her shirt for the mentioned band. “Jeez, man, Westerburg finally gets one of these things, and I’m not gonna blow it.”

James sighed before coughing. “Great. Heather gets the front page, and I get crammed in by the McDonalds coupons,” he muttered.

John strode in, removing her sunglasses and looking at the table. “Hey, I’m here to ask for the lunchtime poll topic… What’s this?” she asked, looking at the curious spread.

“John!” Hercules grinned a bit. “Have a seat. Look, I know the funeral yesterday must’ve been rough, yeah?”

John sat down on a stool, shrugging. “I guess.”

“Well, uh, we were wondering if you had any poems… Artwork… Anything like that Heather did that we could use for the Heather Jefferson yearbook spread?” Hercules quirked a brow.

“Hang on, the what now?” John frowned.

“Check it out,” Hercules motioned to the spread on the table, and John followed his gaze. “It’s a two-page layout remembering Heather, with her suicide note at the top, you feel? It’s a lot more tasteful than it sounds…”

“I don’t know, Herc… This whole thing leaves a bad taste in my mouth,” John held her head in her hand.

Maria heard _that_ as she walked in beside Lafayette. “Oh, like last night, John?” she giggled. It was a millisecond before the duo burst into laughter.

“Sorry, what?” John frowned, standing.

Lafayette piped up, “what she means is, what you did last night. Chuck told us of your… how you say, double-date with Heather and Jim.”

“Yeah, Heather and I left them both drunk and flailing in cow shit.” John folded her arms.

“I dunno, he was pretty detailed,” Maria twirled a curl around her finger as Lafayette chuckled.

“Shut up, Maria,” James spoke up, standing from his own stool.

“No, Maria, I’d like to know exactly what I did,” John cut in, walking toward Maria and Lafayette. Maria scoffed and giggled before turning back to her friend.

“Come on, John, I’ll show you the poll topic,” James sighed, leading John away from the two.

“Okay, Mads, what the fuck?” She asked as soon as they were out of the yearbook room.

“I hate Chuck n’ Jim, you know that, but rumour has it that last night, they had a nice little swordfight in your mouth before bending you over the table and ramming into both ends,” James rolled his eyes.

“Ew!” John gagged. James just nodded. “No! No way! Son of a bitch!” She huffed before pulling out some money and shoving it into James’s hand. “For your fund thing,” she glared before flouncing away.

 

xx

 

“Hey, Chuck? It’s me, John…” John purred into the phone as she sat on her bed, toying with the buttons on her top. “I didn’t expect to be calling, either. I guess my emotions took over. I was curious if you wanted those things you said to really happen… It’s always been a kink of mine. To have two guys at once… Sure, you can write Penthouse Forum.” A laugh, and John through her pillow at Alexander to make him shut up. “That’s right, in the woods behind school. At dawn. Don’t forget Jim… Daddy,” she bit her lip before hanging up, then laughed hysterically.

Charles stared at his phone in disbelief. “Jim, free pussy with a daddy kink! We don’t even gotta buy it food!” he called to James.

Alexander, however, was sitting up on John’s bed with two guns. John looked up as she loaded hers. “Still don’t get the point of why I’m writing a suicide note if we’re only shooting ‘em with blanks…” She let the weapon fall to her bed after loading it.

“We won’t be using blanks this time, babydoll, get crucial,” Alex hummed.

“Alright, Lexi, my Bonnie and Clyde days are over,” John stood up, but Alex pulled her back down.

“Look, you take German?” Alex asked.

“Swiss-German,” John corrected with a raised brow.

Alex fished a bullet out of the chamber of his guns. “These are Ich Luge bullets. My pop snagged a shitton of these back in W. W. double-I. Nazis used them to fake their own suicide—they’re like tranquilizers, but they scratch the surface just enough so they’re bleeding a little,” Alex explained, “no actual harm done.”

“So, they look dead,” John responded slowly, “but they’re just lying there unconscious and bleeding.” She nodded, not believing a single word Alex had said.

“Yep! We shoot the meathead duo, make it look like they shot each other, and by the time they’re conscious they’ll be the laughingstock of the school. Note’s the punchline,” Alex grinned, flopping so his head was in John’s lap. She smiled back at him and smoothed his long locks of hair. “How’d it turn out?”

“Well,” John grabbed the note she’d forged and the sample of Chuck’s handwriting she’d snagged, “tell me the resemblance isn’t incredible.”

Alex took the two pages, reading them over. “Incredible resemblance,” he nodded. “’Jim and I died the day we realised we could never reveal our forbidden love to an uncaring and ununderstanding world. The joy we shared in each other’s arms was greater than any touchdown, yet we were forced to live a lie of Sexist, Beer-Guzzling, Asshole Jocks.’” He laughed. “It’s perfect! But ununderstanding’s not a word.”

“I know, but Chuck doesn’t. Show me our homo artefacts,” John leaned back as Alex sat up.

He plopped a feminine gift bag between them. “We got an issue of Stud Puppy, a candy dish, Joan Crawford post card…” John was howling from laughter as he revealed each item. “Mascara, condoms, lube…”

“You must’ve had so much fun with this,” John stuttered as she wiped a tear from her eye.

“Don’t forget the _piece de resistance_.” Alex pulled out a bottle of mineral water.

“Oh, c’mon!” John sat up, giggling. “Mineral water’s come a long way, lots of straight guys drink it.”

“Yeah, well this is Ohio. If you don’t got a brewsky in your hand, might as well have a dick in your mouth,” Alex replaced the items in the bag.

“You’re so smart,” John purred mockingly, “how about some heterosexuality before we go?”

She climbed into Alexander’s lap and sealed their lips together, hands on his hips.

 

xx

 

She tucked the Beretta into the waistband of her skirt as she heard leaves crunching, then forced a grin as Chuck and Jim approached. “Hi guys!” she giggled, twirling a lock of hair.

After a moment of awkward silence, James spoke up. “Should I just whip it out, or…?” he asked.

John almost groaned in annoyance and disgust, but maintained her cool. “Be a little more sensual… Strip for me,” she bit her lip for a moment. “I’ve made a circle on either side of the clearing. Chuck, you go to this one, and Jim, you go to that one.” She pointed to the circles, and the boys did as they were told. “And when you get to the circle, strip.”

“What about you?” James asked as he shrugged off his jacket.

John giggled. “I was kinda hoping you’d rip my clothes off me, sport,” she replied.

“Good idea,” Charles grinned as he shimmied out of his pants.

Once the two were down to their underpants, they looked at John with hungry grins. “Count of three, guys. One… Two…”

The boys were ready to pounce as Alex stepped out from behind a tree. “Three!” He yelled, shooting James in the neck. John pulled out her own small gun and fired at Charles, but missed. With a scream of ‘holy crap!’ Charles was dashing off. “You missed him-? Stay here, I’ll get ‘im.” And with that, Alex was running after Charles.

John watched, then slowly turned her gaze to James. He lay on the ground, nearly nude, with a bit of blood coming from the corner of his mouth and more oozing from the gunshot. Horror settled in as John shook his shoulder. “Jim?” she asked softly.

Alex yelled a ‘get off the fence- get off the damn fence!’ followed by Charles yelling back to ‘stop being such a dick!’ The sound of him running grew closer, and Alex shouted, “Now!”

John fired, striking him right in the middle of his chest. Charles staggered, falling near James and then stopped moving.

Oh God.

“Chuck doesn’t look too good,” John whimpered as Alex planted the items and placed the gun in James’s hand.

“Just remember he’s left-handed,” Alex responded. John slid her Beretta into his cold, left hand. However, the sound of two people running toward them made the two panic and run off.

“Mother of shit,” a police officer, Nathaniel Pendleton, groaned as he looked at the two bodies. “Call in!”

The other officer, George Frederick, paused as his ears perked up. “I heard something, gonna go check it out,” he told Pendleton before whipping out his gun and following the sound of John and Alex running away.

The two teens stumbled out of the woods and tumbled into John’s car, then frantically pulled off their shirts and began to suck at each other’s lips. Frederick had followed them, looking around for what could’ve been the source of the noise, before noticing the two making out in the car. “Hey, Pends,” Frederick sighed into his walkie talkie, “I think what we heard was just a little cat or something, all I’ve got is a couple’a teens making out in a station wagon.”

John pulled away slightly and listened to the conversation. Alex occasionally pressed their lips together as he gripped her waist. “Forget it,” Pendleton replied over the walkie talkie, “just get back here. Got all the answers we need.” Frederick turned and jogged back into the woods after replacing his gadget.

They sat in silence for a few moments, the air thick, before returning to the kisses and nips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [scream at me on tumblr](http://hellosterfry.tumblr.com)   
>  [scream at me on instagram](http://www.instagram.com/fronku_)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> i'm sad for killing charles because i love him. not so much james reynolds. i said i didn't hate any of the hamilton characters, but i resign that statement because i despise james reynolds. writing that made me happy-ish in a sick way.  
> shoutout to gray thanks for being my friend  
> and shoutout to tabby thanks for rping with me buddy  
> see y'all in the next chapter


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Fuck you, John Laurens."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Students began to pour into the parking lot from buses and cars as the two awoke. John had laid her head in Alex’s lap after they drove back to school, but they still hadn’t fixed their clothes. She shifted, then felt through his shirt. Cigarette. She needed a cigarette. Alex grabbed her wrist in defence before realising who it was. He pressed the button on the car lighter before grabbing his pack, handing her one and placing another between his lips.

“We killed them, didn’t we,” John sighed. It wasn’t a question, more of a statement she wanted Alex to prove.

“Of course,” Alex chuckled.

“Ich Luge bullets,” John held her head. “God! I’m such an idiot!”

The button popped out, and John pulled out the glowing-hot lighter. She moved to light her own cigarette at first, but then jammed the heated metal into the palm of her own hand. She screamed out in pain. Alex jolted a bit and grabbed her burnt hand, then lit his cigarette from the burn. She sobbed in pain. _How could I have done this? These guys were just kids, they had so much to live for,_ she thought.

“Face it, season’s over. All they had left to offer the school was date rape and AIDS jokes,” Alex chuckled and blew smoke through his nose, “you wanted them gone as badly as I did.”

“I did _not_ want them _dead!”_ John gasped as she lit her own cigarette from her palm.

“Did too,” Alex smiled.

“Did not!” John yelled.

“Did too!” Alex shouted back.

“Did not!”

“Did too!”

“I did not! Did not! Did not!”

“You did-“

John covered her ears. “Teenage suicide, don’t do it!” she scream-sang to block out Alex’s voice. Alex ripped her hands away from her ears and the screaming match resumed. Her hand banged down on the horn a few times.

Heather Burr and Heather Van Rensselaer stood nearby, watching the couple scream at each other. “Young love,” Heather Burr grinned. Heather V. laughed.

“Hey, didn’t you guys hear?” Maria squeezed between the two girls. “School’s cancelled because Chuck and Jim killed each other in a repressed homosexual love affair-related suicide pact.”

“No way!” Heather B. squealed. The two girls ran toward her Jeep to go back home.

“God,” John sighed, crying from frustration as she leaned back against the seat. She took a drag from her cigarette and breathed out the smoke cloud. “Can we just make an ice run before the funeral?”

 

xx

 

“If there’s any way you can hear me, Jim, buddy,” Mr. Reynolds looked toward the sky, holding a football, “I don’t care if you were some… pansy. You’re my own flesh n’ blood.” He looked toward the pews. “My son’s a homosexual, and I love him. I love my dead, gay son!”

Alex leaned to speak in John’s ear. “How d’you think he would’ve reacted to a son with a limp wrist and a pulse?” he whispered. John snorted.

A small girl—Chuck’s younger cousin—turned to them with tears in her eyes. John noticed her and felt sick. She and Alex were why this poor girl was crying. If she hadn’t gone with him, if she’d just been smart, she could’ve prevented all this.

“Feel good, babygirl?” Heather Jefferson hummed, leaning over John’s shoulder and looking to her.

“Not now, shut up,” John hissed.

“Hey, you laughed,” Alex frowned. Oh, fuck.

John quickly left the church with Heather following her. “How does it feel to have a body count of three, John? Three of us following you around!” Heather grinned. Chuck and Jim sauntered up and kissed John’s cheeks. She felt nauseous. “Isn’t that just peachy keen, jelly-bean?!”

“Kinda pissed you killed us,” James grumbled.

“Hey, but we get to follow a babe around until she’s gone!” Charles elbowed him in the ribs. “So what the school thinks we’re fags, we know we’re straight!”

“Try the whole town, Chucky,” John chuckled wearily.

“Who’s next? Elizababy?” Heather laughed. “Oh, wait. You’re still her little baby playmate, isn’t that right, Johnny?”

“Shut up, Heather, her name’s Eliza!” John yelled, holding her head.

“John?”

“Well, fuck me gently with a chainsaw!” Heather grinned as Eliza dashed up to John.

“Lizzie.” John was stiff as Eliza stared at her.

“Look, a lot doesn’t add up, okay? Don’t tell anyone, but I think Chuck n’ Jim were murdered!” Eliza whispered.

“I like her,” Jim grinned.

“Shut up,” John glared. She was getting fed up with these three, and she felt even worse. Like she was going to throw up.

“No, John. I’m not going to shut up. I want you to hear me out.” Her tone was serious. “I know there was a note, but that could’ve been forged, y’know? You forge shit all the time.”

“Who would’ve killed them?” John folded her arms.

“Your boyfriend, Alex,” Eliza admitted. “I get really bad vibes from him. Maybe I could check his locker, could you get his combination?”

“No, Eliza. Chuck and Jim were gay, they didn’t want to get picked on, so they killed each other,” John shrugged. “Gay people aren’t really accepted.”

“Yeah they are, remember?” Eliza smiled knowingly. “Maria? She kissed me.”

“In kindergarten.” John raised a brow.

“Yeah, well what about the note she gave me?” She folded her arms.

Heather appeared behind Eliza, grinning. “You’ve got two options, honey bunches. Either come clean about killing poor Chucky and Jimmy, or come clean about the note. Eat or be eaten,” she hummed, playing with Eliza’s hair. “You know what to say, babe.”

John laughed softly. “I wrote that note,” she confessed smugly.

“No,” Eliza giggled and shook her head.

“Yeah,” John mocked her tone. “The Heathers put me up to it. The _whole school_ was in on the joke. And, no one laughed harder than Maria. Get real, Eliza. She doesn’t love you.”

Eliza’s lower lip trembled at John’s words, and she felt tears roll down her cheeks.

“Looks like someone lives up to the name, Cry-ler,” John raised her brows.

Eliza glared and wiped her eyes. _“Fuck you, John Laurens.”_ And with that, she stormed away.

John stood there for a moment after Eliza ran off, Heather smiling at her. “Shit,” she whispered. Heather’s smile widened. “No, okay. I had to hurt her. I can’t expose myself and Alex like this, we could go to jail.”

“Say goodbye to Little Miss Wah-Wah, Johnny,” Heather giggled. “C’mon, boys.” She and the two jocks sauntered away and slowly disappeared.

_Dear diary,_

_Alex and I are going steady. He’s getting more badass, but now Chuck and Jim are gone, too. The whole school thinks they’re gay. I don’t have anything against gay people, hell, Eliza’s pretty gay and she was my best friend. But they were only seventeen, they had so much to live for. Everyone’s sad, but it’s not the sad-sad, it’s a weird type of sad. “Suicide” gave Heather more than enough popularity, Chuck a brain, and Jim a soul. What scares me most is that I’m not scared by what Alex is gonna do next…_

John sighed, downing a swig of vodka from the bottle that sat beside her before finishing her entry.

_Dear diary, my teen angst bullshit has a body count._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave me comments i'm trying my best please
> 
> [scream at me on tumblr](http://hellosterfry.tumblr.com)  
> [scream at me on instagram](http://www.instagram.com/fronku_)
> 
> alright  
> hello i didn't want to put much at the beginning of the chapter so hi  
> three chapters in a week i spoil you guys,, <3  
> i wrote this while listening to the bootleg but also while half-watching the movie because i'm a mess  
> i'll try to write something where i'm nice to eliza because i really do love her and i think she's a princess and deserves better than this shit? but at this point it'll all go downhill for her. and peggy. and john. i'll be nice to them and maria and give them attention eventually because they're great. but for right now, n a h.  
> shoutout to mac because they're really cool and a great writer  
> see y'all in chapter eight


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He sat in front of her, sliding a manila envelope across the chemistry room table to her. “What’s this shit?” she frowned, then opened the envelope. Photos. Photos of herself and someone she didn’t want to associate herself with anymore. “Me, and Cry-ler? Where’d you get these?”
> 
> “Well, I had the loveliest chat with Miss Cry-ler at the assembly today. Got along famously, she’s really so nice. Kinda scary how everyone has a story to tell."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> these chapters are getting progressively shorter and it was so hard to write this  
> i really love maria so here she is again! :oo  
> warnings: slut-shaming (ish), james reynolds being an asshole as usual (mention)  
> [also i published another shitty fic if you're interested](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10972173)

“Heather, shut up,” John glared, sitting on her bed as Heather Jefferson giggled in front of her. “If Alex caught Eliza going through his shit he’d-“

“Kill her?!” Heather gasped over-dramatically, covering her mouth. “Maybe he’d use one of those Ich Luge bullets on her?! Oh, poor little Cry-ler, and just when I thought Jesse James was hanging up his gun-slinging days for good.”

“I said shut up!” John yelled and tried to shove Heather. Her hands went right through her.

“Well, John, looks like you’re getting stupider by the… Hang on.” Heather turned to the side and coughed out some drainer fluid before continuing. “By the day! You can’t do shit to me, I’m _dead._ You killed me, remember?”

“John, honey, are you alright?” Eleanor called from downstairs. “Who’re you talking to?”

“I’m on the phone with Heather!” John shouted back.

“Now then, what d’you think everyone would do if the true killers were found out? And one of their victims proved it?” Heather examined her nails boredly.

“Who’s being stupid now? You can’t do shit to me, you’re _dead_ ,” John laughed as she mocked Heather.

“Can it,” Heather glared, “someone’s gonna be late for school if she doesn’t haul ass.”

“Shit, yeah,” John winced. “Don’t follow me, alright? One peaceful day. Tell Chuck and Jim that, too, I just want a peaceful day.”

“Oh, fine. Sissy.” Heather folded her arms and fell back on John’s bed. “By the way, I still have a Swatch in my locker. Take it. You can’t accessorise for shit.”

“How very.” And at that, John left.

 

xx

 

He sat in front of her, sliding a manila envelope across the chemistry room table to her. “What’s this shit?” she frowned, then opened the envelope. Photos. Photos of herself and someone she didn’t want to associate herself with anymore. “Me, and Cry-ler? Where’d you get these?”

“Well, I had the loveliest chat with Miss Cry-ler at the assembly today. Got along famously, she’s really so nice. Kinda scary how everyone has a story to tell. Did you see the bath shots? Precious,” he hummed.

She was disgusted. “What is this, blackmail? What could _you_ possibly want?” She thought for a moment. “I’ll give you a week’s lunch money. No! A month. Just get rid of these.”

“I don’t want your money, I want your strength!” He stood. “Westerburg needs a leader, not some shitty together-ness assembly! Now, we _did_ have Heather Jefferson as that leader…”

“But she couldn’t take the heat,” she smiled up at him.

“I think you can. Now, in _Catcher in the Rye_ —correct me if I’m wrong—Holden says his ideal job is making sure kids don’t fall over the cliff. But, he doesn’t realise that if you pay too much attention to the kids, you fall over the cliff yourself.” He raised a brow.

“Very very,” she nodded, “the photographs?”

He grabbed up the manila envelope and tucked it into his coat, then pulled something else out of his pocket. “Don’t worry, you’ll get them. I’ll ask you a favour eventually, and if you do it, you get these _and_ the negatives back.” He placed the other item in front of her. A red scrunchie. “But for now… Strength.”

She examined the scrunchie quietly, then pulled her green scrunchie out of her hair. She replaced green with red, and now she was ready to lead a school.

 

xx

 

John picked open Heather’s locker without a problem. She’d jammed the lock, all she had to do was peel away the tape keeping it closed. Inside, she saw many things familiar. An ‘I shop, therefore I am’ sticker, a little licence plate that read “HEATHER” under “MONTICELLO,” glow-in-the-dark star stickers, a photo of the Heathers and John all posing with their croquet mallets, and finally, the photo booth strip.

She remembered the photo booth strip. It was the city fair, after she had been accepted into the Heathers, and they all four went together. Heather Jefferson had tugged John to a photo booth, and four pictures were taken. A serious one first, then one of Heather blocking John and staring at the camera, John and Heather laughing, and then John posing in front of a mock-scowling Heather.

Maybe she really wasn’t all that bad.

After grabbing the red Swatch and photo strip, a pair of hands covered John’s eyes, followed by a “guess who?” John batted the hands away, turning. “Heather, I’m really-“ She stopped.

Heather Burr had lost all her green clothes in favour of red. She wore the red scrunchie, a black miniskirt, a white shirt, red socks, black Mary-Janes, and most importantly, the red, velvet coat. That was definitely Heather Jefferson’s, since it hung too loosely on Heather Burr.

John glared and shoved Heather away. “Great,” she muttered as she stormed down the hall. Heather looked confused for a moment before looking into Heather Jefferson’s locker. Red earrings. She snatched them.

 

xx

 

“I don’t believe it, I’m winning!” Maria smiled as the orange ball rolled through a hoop.

John smiled, holding her croquet mallet, and approached her. “Don’t get cocky on me, girl,” she teased and lined up to make her shot.

“Hey, I know we weren’t really that close, but thanks for inviting me over. It’s nice to have some variation… But that’s hard when you only have two friends,” Maria watched John make a shot and fall just short of a hoop.

“That’s bullshit,” John giggled softly. “Just shoot.”

Maria lined up to make a shot, but spoke up again. “I can’t believe the whole school thinks I’m a whore, I’m still a virgin. I kissed Jim _once_ , and he wanted to go farther, but I’m… I don’t know if I should tell you this.”

“What?” John asked, leaning against her mallet.

“I’m… I’m into girls,” Maria mumbled. “Sorry if that changes your view of me.”

“Hey, I don’t mind, Eliza is too and I didn’t have any problem sleeping over with her or doing other shit. Shoot,” John offered a grin.

Maria breathed a sigh of relief and made her shot. “Thank God. I told Jim that when he tried to… y’know. He cut off every tie with me, told the whole school I was fucking Chuck, and now… Yeah,” she looked down.

John gave her a gentle hug. “Maria, you’ve been through so much, and I don’t even know what it’s like. But now, prepare to die.” She lined up and made her shot.

“Johnny!” Maria giggled. However, she stopped when John’s ball hit hers. John walked over and moved her ball. “Wait, you’re not just gonna take those two shots, are you? Nice guys finish last.”

“It’s not really my style.” However, John did decide to knock Maria’s ball out, and jumped as it sailed past Heather Burr.

“Bravo,” Heather smiled, stepping into the yard. “Brav- _o_!” She clapped slowly, and Heather Van Rensselaer tripped into the backyard. She followed behind Heather B. with a grin.

Maria looked scared for a split second. “Hey John, I’ve gotta go, okay?” she asked nervously.

“Okay. Bye, ‘Ria,” John hummed tenderly.

Maria tried to squeeze between the Heathers, but Heather B. stopped her. “Maria, leaving so soon? Booty-call?” she teased. Maria tore away and darted off. John glared at Heather. “I’m red.”

 

xx

 

_Dear diary,_

_I don’t know what the fuck Heather’s damage is, but Maria is a tr_

John frowned. She tried to finish the sentence, but no ink was coming out of the pen. “Fucking pen!” she yelled and threw it across the room, right at Chuck.

“Vicious!” he called.

“Suck my dick,” John grumbled as she pulled a new pen from the cup on her desk and continued writing.

_…a true friend, she’s super nice when you get to know her! But Heather’s got to be a megabitch, apparently. Speaking of Heather, she’s trying to replace Heather. It’s fucking disgusting. I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but I miss Heather. I just want everything to go back to the way it used to be._

_I wish I’d never met Alex._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [scream at me on tumblr](http://hellosterfry.tumblr.com)  
> [scream at me on instagram](http://www.instagram.com/fronku_)  
>  i have the next chapter written, it's really really short, but i wanted it to be like that so y'all could skip it. you'll see why, should you choose to read it.  
> shoutout to gray thanks for being my friend and shit  
> see y'all in the next chapter


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I hope you're happy._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALRIGHT PLEASE TAKE THIS SERIOUSLY. I MADE THIS SHORT FOR A REASON BECAUSE IT'S KINDA DESCRIPTIVE AND REALLY REALLY SAD TO ME. THERE'S MENTIONS OF SELF HARM, HOMOPHOBIA, INTERNALISED HATE/HOMOPHOBIA, THERE'S SUICIDE, AND IT'S UNDER 550 WORDS. _PLEASE_ HEED THIS WARNING. I MADE IT SHORT SO YOU CAN SKIP IT, I'M WORKING ON CHAPTER TEN RIGHT NOW. IF YOU DON'T READ IT, THAT'S FINE, BUT IF YOU WANT TO, THERE'S YOUR WARNINGS.

Eliza stared down at herself, her sleeves pulled up away from her wrists, the faded scars and fresh cuts marking her pale skin. Everyone wondered why she always wore long sleeves, how was she supposed to explain _this_ without being deemed weird?

_Cry-ler. Freak. Baby. Prude. Whiny._

She slid her things off her desk in tears, the small potted plant shattering as a book fell on top of it in the mess.

“Lizzie? You okay?” Angelica called from her room.

“Peachy,” Eliza responded, grabbing a piece of paper from her drawer and her favourite pink pen, and beginning to write her last words to the world.

_To whom it may concern:_

_I can’t take it anymore. I’ve been bullied for being sensitive for seven years, I’ve been bullied for liking girls for twelve, and I’ve been bullied by myself for eleven. I’m tired of being called Elizababy Cry-ler, getting my things knocked over, being called childish for liking Disney and stuff like that, and I’m just sick of having to put up with mean people. I just want to be somewhere where people are nice, and that place is heaven. I’ve tried to man up, tried to deal with my emotional pain by making it physical, but it’s not working._

_Heather, Heather, Chuck, Jim, everyone who bullied me, I’m going to say what I’ve thought of you all since you picked on me. Fuck you. You’re a bunch of jerks, and I hope you burn. I’m glad I won’t have to deal with you again, because you’re the reason I’m doing this. Burn._

_Mom, Dad, Angelica, John, I’m sorry. I love you._

_Maria, I’m sorry I acted weird around you for twelve years and that I feel this way about you. May our affections die with me._

_See you on the other side._

_\- Elizabeth Grace Schuyler._

Eliza folded the note neatly on her desk as she moved to her window. She looked down from the sill before standing on the ledge, barely balancing as she sniffled. Was she actually going through with this? John would miss her; her family would be devastated.

Scratch that. John was a Heather now. She was responsible for some of this.

She moved back to her desk to fix the note.

_Edit: John, nevermind. I hope you burn, too. You’ve acted like a bitch for the past weeks. I shouldn’t have mentioned that you’d be a good Heather, because now you’re just like them. If you’re reading or hearing this, I hope you know that what you did really screwed me up. You were my only friend, now you’re just a grade-a dick. I hope you’re happy._

Eliza refolded the note and stood at her window ledge, spreading her arms and whispering a final apology to the world before letting herself fall.

The time it took to hit the ground seemed to be forever. Eliza felt weightless, free. Like Alex had said yesterday, raise a glass to freedom.

Alex.

She forgot to include Alexander in her note, and now he was going to think she hated him. It was too late to fix it-

_Crack._

She hit the pavement with a sickening sound, and everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah.  
> not putting my social media in this time. you have it.  
> i wrote this after chapter two to vent because of a mood drop, and i was really iffy on putting this in, but i mean... they included martha's suicide in the movie. hell, she even got a song before her suicide in the musical.  
> i'll probably publish chapter ten tonight or later this afternoon, depending on how fast i can pump it out.  
> comment if you want. i miss y'all commenting.  
> see you.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Is she dead?”  
> “Absolutely."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >:3c  
> I'M BACK! I LITERALLY PUBLISHED CHAPTER NINE, GOT SAD, THEN WORKED ON CHAPTER TEN. 2141 words, is that a good apology for the last chapter?  
> i was listening to lifeboat while writing the radio scene, and i had to include seabury, because he's one of my favourites.  
> warnings for this chapter: "kill yourself," suicide attempt, vomit (briefly), mentions of family troubles, and i think that's it. the kys thing is the most prominent, though.

“John, honey, we’re having a TV dinner tonight, go and get yourself some food from the table and join us!” Eleanor called as she flipped channels on the television. As John made her way down the stairs, Eleanor looked back. “Also, your friend Alex stopped by to check on you, I told him you were busy. Is he the dark horse? He’s kinda cute, y’know.” She smiled at her daughter.

“Maybe,” John fake-smiled and strode to get herself some food.

“Goddamn, won’t anyone tell me why I smoke these things?” Henry asked, taking one last drag from his cigarette.

“Because you’re an idiot!” John called from the kitchen.

“Oh yeah, that’s it,” Henry chuckled and stubbed it out in the ashtray.

John returned and plopped down between her parents on the couch, taking a bite of pate. The television showed Mrs. Knox. “The Westerburg Suicides were tough on all of us, but today we shared the pain of losing three very popular souls,” she spoke.

“Hey, isn’t that the flake we met at the Open House that one night?” Henry asked. Eleanor hummed an affirmative as she continued watching.

“I came into the cafeteria and asked them to hold hands. The response was immediate!” The television showed footage of students cheering and holding hands from the assembly.

“Oh, there’s Heather!” Henry smiled as Heather V. was shown on screen.

“My mere words liberated the students, causing them to open their petals and reveal their true hopes and fears. By a stroke of luck, T.V. cameras happened to be on hand to capture this spontaneous, natural outpouring of emotion,” Mrs. Knox continued.

“’Happened to be on hand’? ‘Spontaneous, natural outpouring of emotion’?” John mumbled angrily.

Heather Burr appeared on the footage. John stared at her in disgust. “And there’s Heather!” Eleanor sighed happily. “Where are you, John?”

John got up and unplugged the television furiously. “I’m right here,” she frowned.

“Turn that back on!” Eleanor ordered.

“Can’t you see? Programs like this are eating suicide up with a spoon! They’re making it seem cool! Like… ‘Oh, hey kids! Make your parents and teachers _hate_ you so you get the respect in death you never got in life!’” John fumed.

“Are you trying to tell me this isn’t a time for troubled youth?” Henry asked.

“I’m trying to say they care about _youth as a whole_ and _not the individual!_ We want to be treated like _human beings,_ not experimented on like guinea pigs or patronised like bunny rabbits!” John yelled, clenching her fists.

“I _do not_ patronise bunny rabbits!” Henry gasped.

Eleanor gave him a look. “Treated like human beings? Usually when teenagers say that, it’s because they _are._ Being an adult is _not_ like a game of doubles tennis, Little Miss Voice of a Generation,” she responded, albeit angrily.

John smiled, her eyes melancholy, as she leaned against a wall. “I guess I picked the wrong time to be a human being, then.”

“Hi, Mr. Laurens! Mrs. Laurens!” A chipper voice rang through the house. John almost threw up—Heather Burr. “Door was open. Oh, John! John, did you hear? C’mon!” Heather tugged John up to her room.

“What’re you going on about, Heather?” John sighed as Heather shut the door.

“Elizababy.” Heather turned, grinning. “Okay, so Heather and I were at the Food Fair when the radio says Elizababy Cry-ler took a flying leap out her window, and left a suicide note on her desk!”

“Oh my god,” John covered her mouth. She was going to throw up. “Is she dead?”

“Absolutely. If the snapped neck didn’t do it, blood loss sure as hell did,” Heather chirped. John ran for her garbage can and vomited, trembling.

Heather Jefferson appeared behind her, smoothing her hair. “I wonder whose fault that could’ve been?” she hummed.

“Shut up!” John yelled as she felt tears roll down her cheeks.

“Don’t tell me to shut up, you’re not Heather,” Heather Burr glared.

John was sick of it. She stood, marched up to Heather, and slapped her across the face. The sound echoed through the room for a second until James and Charles started cheering and chanting. “Girl fight! Girl fight! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” they yelled. John growled.

“John.” Her voice grew dark. Oh, shit. “What. The. Fuck.”

“Heather, you’re treating Eliza like she was some nuisance to your life! What did she ever do to you?! She’s been nothing but sweet to you, Heather, and Heather, and what do you do?! You’re all _bitches_ to her! Well, not Heather, but Heather’s not a bitch to anyone… Whatever! You steal Heather’s role, you’re trying to be something you’re not! And you know what?! Heather, Jim, and Chuck didn’t kill themselves, _I did!”_ John covered her mouth, gasping at what had slipped out. She looked at her hands, then to Heather, and smiled sheepishly. “So… What do you think of that?”

“I think I need ice,” Heather glared. “I’ll be back.”

Heather stalked out, and Heather J. was back. “The fuck do you want,” John sighed as she slid down against her wall. Heather knelt down in front of her.

“Darlin’, she doesn’t believe you,” Heather smiled. “But why’s she trying to take my place? She’s nowhere _near_ as pretty and amazing as me.”

“Heather, no homo, but you’re right,” John mumbled. “You’re prettier than her, and I kinda miss you. Not really, because… Okay, yeah, you’re a bitch, but you’re better than Heather.”

“Kind of you to say that,” Heather smiled a genuine smile. “But where the hell did she get my coat from? I _know_ it’s mine, she’s too skinny and short for it.”

“Hell, I dunno. She took your earrings, too.” John looked at the red and green Swatch. “I hear her coming, though.”

“If she bitches, slap her again for me,” Heather winked and vanished.

Heather Burr opened the door, holding a bag of ice wrapped in a cloth to where John slapped her. “I told your mom you were trying to get a mosquito, you’re welcome,” she grumbled.

“I’m sorry,” John lied. “It’s just… You’re treating Eliza’s suicide too lightly. She was actually really very.”

“Uh-huh,” Heather frowned and sprawled onto John’s bed. John flopped down beside her.

“I said I was sorry,” John reminded.

“You’re out of control, John. Heather and Chuck were a shock, but Cry-ler? She was dialling suicide hotlines in her diapers,” Heather stated.

“You’re not funny,” John muttered. “Turn on the radio, you’re closer.”

“Eliza couldn’t take the heat, so she left the kitchen,” Heather imitated Heather Jefferson. _Slap her,_ John heard Heather J. whisper in her head. “If only every other loser at this school did that,” Heather Burr finished.

“Just shut up and turn on the radio, Mad King’s on,” John frowned.

“Ooh, shit, yeah,” Heather grinned and flicked on the radio.

“It’s just that… DJ can be so bossy, and Michelle’s taking up all of Dad’s attention. I know it’s not me, but I feel like I’m Stephanie and I hate being the middle kid!” a female whined.

“Baby, you’ve just gotta remember that without you, the show would be lost. I promise you that,” the familiar English accent of the Mad King Show radio host smiled. “Next call!”

“That sounded like a good one,” John grinned, and Heather nodded in agreement.

A few Beatles-esque chords played. “Hear ye, hear ye! My name is the Farmer, and I present Free Thoughts on the Mad King Show!” Farmer’s intro played.

“Caller five, you’re on-air,” Farmer stated.

“My name is Heather,” a too-familiar voice spoke. Heather and John looked at each other. _Heather Van Rensselaer was calling the Mad King Show._ “Wait… No, it’s not Heather. It’s… Maria. God, no.”

“Babe, I need a name,” Farmer told her patiently.

“It’s…” She sighed. “My name is… Tweety.”

“Tweety?” Farmer repeated. “Ooh, tweet!”

“I… I want to kill myself. God’s cursed me, I think. The last guy I slept with killed himself because he’s gay for his line-backer, and my best friend seemed to have it all together, but now she’s gone, too,” Heather V. whimpered over the radio. “And… And now my stomach is hurting… And when I’m on the bus, I feel my heart going faster and faster and I’m like, ‘Jesus, I’m on the freakin’ bus to school again, because all my rides are dead.’”

“Oh my god…” John whispered.

“I feel like I’m just… I’m floating in a boat. A really bad boat. In a stormy ocean… and… And it’s cramped full of everyone I know. It’s like I’m gonna sink any minute, and everyone’s fighting, and we need to throw someone overboard if they don’t fit in! And I don’t wanna go overboard! So I have to look just perfect and be the happy girl, all because the Captain wants the perfect boat. Who made her captain? I just…” Her breath was shaky. “I want a break.”

“We are _so_ going to crucify her for this tomorrow!” Heather Burr grinned. “I’m staying here tonight, by the way. My foster family keeps fighting.”

“Alright,” John responded weakly.

 

xx

 

Heather had written “POOR LITTLE HEATHER” on the blackboard, and Heather V. sat in her desk, staring sadly at it. John looked at her, feeling so sorry that she had to put up with this. Heather B., however, was laughing with the popular kids across the room. Suddenly, she looked to the yellow-clad Heather. “Tweety, poor, poor little Tweety, if you wanna kill yourself, do it!” she cackled.

That was all it took for the girl to stand and shove past the entering teacher, holding her bag as she ran out of the room. “Where’s Heather going?” Mr. Adams asked.

“She’s going to cry.” Heather drew out the word ‘cry’ tauntingly and the room erupted into laughter. Except for John. She stumbled out the door after Heather.

“Where’s _she_ going?!” Mr. Adams yelled.

“Fucking child-proof caps…” Heather whispered as she gave up on unscrewing the lid of her sleeping pills she’d snatched before leaving. She began to hit the cap against the faucet. Finally, it was open! She pressed the rim to her lips, tossed her head back, and let the pills fill her mouth.

John ran down the hall and toward the girls’ bathroom. Heather was filling a child’s cup with water when John burst in. She gasped and dashed up to Heather. “No!” she yelled and squeezed Heather’s cheeks, causing the pills to spill from her mouth and onto the floor.

“What’re you trying to do, _kill me_?!” Heather sobbed.

“What’re you trying to do, _sleep_?!” John replied.

Heather slumped down onto the floor. “Suicide’s a private thing,” she mumbled.

John crushed one of the pills with her foot. “You’re throwing away your life to become a statistic in the U.S. of fucking A. That is the least private thing I can think of.” She slid down beside her.

“But Heather… and Chuck… and Jim…” Heather protested.

“Hey, if everyone jumped off a bridge, would you?” John asked.

“Probably,” Heather mumbled and looked down. She spit out the last few pills into the bottle.

“Hey, if you were happy every day, you wouldn’t be a human, you’d be a game-show host,” John offered quietly.

Heather sighed. “How about we knock off early, buy some shoes? Something lame like that?” She offered a weak grin.

“Sure,” John returned the smile.

Heather threw her arms around John’s neck and hugged her tightly, a few tears slipping down her cheeks. “Thank you.”

 

xx

 

Flames. She watched _the_ manila enveloped burn with a grin as he paced beside her. “Now, that favour,” he hummed.

“Anything,” she responded, looking to him.

“Heather Jefferson did polls, I want you to do a petition.” He pulled a clipboard from his coat. “You heard of BigFun?”

“Teenage suicide, don’t do it,” she sang quietly.

“You’ve got a beautiful voice,” he complimented.

She blushed. “Thank you.”

“Now, some teenybopper rag-mag says they wanna play for a pep rally. That could be ours if you get everyone’s John Hancock.” He slid the clipboard to her. “Think you can handle that?”

She pushed the ashes into the chemistry lab sink, then took the clipboard. “Sure thing, doc. By the way, here’s a gift.” She plopped a book on the table. “Won’t be needing this anymore.” And with that, she sashayed out of the room while humming.

He picked up the book. _The Catcher in the Rye._ Everything was going as planned.

 

xx

 

_Dear diary,_

_I cut off Heather Jefferson’s head, and Heather Burr’s grew back, like something my middle school boyfriend would be into. She’s even doing the ‘honey’ thing. I’ve seen Alex’s way, I’ve seen Knox’s way. And jack shit’s changed… I guess that’s Heather’s way. And hey, what about Alex? I can’t stop thinking about him. Are we going to homecoming or hell?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you know my tumblr and insta, i'm gonna stop putting that in here.  
> OOH GURL JOHN IS ANGERY OH SHIT  
> (i'm gonna ramble down here if you wanna skip it, it's nothing important.)  
> okay but like, i really really love everyone in hamilton except james reynolds. i've said that. so writing aaron like this makes me mad because he doesn't need this.  
> i'll work on my other planned fic after this one's over, and that should be soon? i have part of the end (dead girl walking reprise and i am damaged) written already. but i still have to get _to_ that, first. i might publish a preview of that on tumblr after this is finished, and i can tell you now it's not gonna be a fluid story. it'll just be one-shots. i'm working on the lore/timeline/shit for it, though, and it's gonna be great. i already did a doodle of seabury for it and put it on insta, [here](https://scontent-dft4-3.cdninstagram.com/t51.2885-15/e35/18581423_1217546118355265_6927364481274085376_n.jpg) is a direct link to the picture.  
>  i have a lot of fics planned, it's just a matter of if i want to follow through with them. like, one's just for me coping, and i _probably won't_ post that because it's really personal. but i also have one where everyone's some type of element/nature-related creature, and i'll most likely post about that at least on tumblr. all i'll say about that is eliza can control water, and her hair is literally flowing water. the tips are like the area on waves where it ends? like the very end where it's all splashy-fchchhchh-y. (i was moving my hands around a lot while trying to think of how to describe it before remembering you can't see me.) AND HER EYES ARE LIKE LITTLE POOLS OF WATER, AND WHEN SHE GETS HAPPY OR CRIES, THERE'S RIPPLES!!!!  
>  last thing! still un-beta'd! email me at wheatbyproducts@gmail.com if you want to beta-read for me! i'll write you something to thank you if you do!  
> ALRIGHT SORRY FOR RAMBLING SEE Y'ALL IN CHAPTER ELEVEN _BYE!_


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I can’t believe you’re actually crying about me,” a new voice piped up. The car grew silent, and John looked to her rear-view mirror.  
> Eliza.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO CHAPTER ELEVEN IS UP AFTER TWELVE-MILLION YEARS!!!  
> it's only been five days, but it feels that way, anyway. i've been sitting on this for a while because a majority of this is original content. also thanks to jojo for being the beta for this chapter. enjoy!

_September 26 th, 1989._

_Dear diary…_

John sat on a stair, furiously scrawling into her diary.

_I thought I was a good person. Y’know, how there’s usually good in everyone? But here we are! Not even halfway done with first quarter! And I look around at all these kids that’ve died, and I’m asking myself, “What happened?”_

“John!” Heather V. called, and she stood up immediately. “Heather wants you to haul ass to the table, pronto.”

“How very,” John sighed as she closed her diary. She followed Heather to the table.

However, someone grabbing her and holding her caught John off guard.

She went to punch him before seeing who it was—Alex. “Hey,” he smiled, pecking her forehead. “It’s been a few days since you talked to me, wanna see a movie tonight?

“I figured something more along the lines of slitting Heather Burr’s wrists open, make it look like a suicide,” John responded feebly.

“Ha. Now you’re thinking,” Alex kissed her neck softly. “I’ll catch up with you later, we could-“

John shoved him away, glaring. “No, Alex. I told you, it’s over. I’m not gonna keep helping you with your shitty excuse for ‘helping’ me, find someone else.” She stormed away.

“You done flirting with Billy the Kid?” Heather Burr asked, then slid a clipboard across the table. “Could you sign this, pretty please?”

John stared at the front paper blankly for a moment. “Heather, could we have a moment, please?” she asked. Heather V. nodded and moved to a different table. “Alright, what’s this shit.”

“Okay, so I’ve gotten _everyone_ to sign this petition,” Heather grinned, “even the people who thinks BigFun are just tuneless EuroFags. They love me!”

“Yeah. They love you,” John muttered, “but me? Heather, I _know_ you. Hercules Mulligan told me this petition was to shave the last three hours off of school for the seniors. And Kitty Livingston-!”

“So, some people need different persuasion than others,” Heather shrugged. “Just sign the petition, okay?” After John glared at her for a moment, she went on. “Look. It was Alex’s idea. He made the sign sheet and everything, _now_ will you sign it?”

Alex. She felt sick. “No,” she replied.

Heather scoffed. “Jealous much?” she laughed.

“Honey! John!” Heather Jefferson yelled. “Bitch-slap ‘er!”

And John did. As hard as she could.

The cafeteria grew dead-silent at the sound of John slapping Heather Burr. “Heather, _why_ can’t you just be a friend to _one person?! **Why** are you such a **MegaBitch?!”**_ John yelled.

“Because I can be,” Heather hissed. “Why are you pulling my dick?” However, as Principal Washington approached the table, she began to fake-cry. “John, _what is wrong with you?”_ she whimpered.

“Oh, fuck you,” Heather Jefferson yelled. John wanted to yell that so everyone could hear, but the principal was standing there.

“Miss Laurens?” He raised his eyebrows. “Please come with me.”

John sighed and followed him to his office. She could feel everyone staring at her, and she despised it. The walk to his office was long even if the room was close to the cafeteria, and he closed the door behind John. “Have a seat, please,” he gestured to a chair. John plopped down and avoided eye contact. “Now, would you like to tell me why you slapped Miss Burr?”

Heather Jefferson floated beside her, sitting. “Because she’s stealing my style. She’s a little shit. She’s trying to be me,” Heather answered.

“Because she’s a bitch,” John mumbled.

“That works,” Heather smiled pleasantly.

“John, why would you say that?” Principal Washington frowned.

“Because it’s true,” Heather piped up.

“She’s treating Eliza Schuyler’s suicide like it was a gift, rather than how we’re supposed to be treating it.” John felt her cheeks burn. She wanted to cry.

“Eliza committed suicide? When?” He sounded surprised.

“Over the weekend,” she choked out.

“And Heather Burr was talking about it… What did she say?”

John tried to remember, and she hiccupped. “She said something like… ‘Eliza couldn’t take the heat, so she got out of the kitchen, if only every other loser at this school did that.’” A tear rolled down her cheek. Why was she crying? Why did she always cry around Principal Washington?

“Miss Laurens, go home. Eliza’s death must’ve affected you greatly,” the principal told her.

“Sir-“ John began to protest.

“Go home.”

And so, she did.

“Can you _believe_ Heather’s actually trying to think she can be me?” Heather Jefferson crossed her arms.

“Man, Heather’s skirt was pretty short today,” James chuckled, “and her tits were poppin’!”

“Hell yeah, man! Punch it in!” Charles grinned.

“I can’t believe you’re actually crying about me,” a new voice piped up. The car grew silent, and John looked to her rear-view mirror.

Eliza.

“Lizzie?!” John yelled and almost swerved.

Eliza sighed. “Looks like I’m stuck here for eternity,” she muttered and folded her arms.

“What, we have _Cry-ler_ now?” James whined.

“Can it, Jim,” John barked. “Call her Eliza or don’t talk to her. My car, my house, my rules.”

“Fine…” James huffed.

“Can we all just go home?” Charles begged.

“I want ice cream,” Heather pouted. “John, can you make an ice cream run?”

“I swear, I’m dealing with toddlers,” John muttered, her eye twitching from annoyance. “Heather, you can’t eat. You’re _dead.”_

“We’re going home.” Eliza sounded as pissed as John.

“Bitch…” Heather breathed and crossed her arms.

“Takes one to know one,” John shot back as she pulled into the driveway. “I’m gonna take a nap, don’t bother me. Eliza, don’t take shit from them, slap them. Jim, Chuck, leave Eliza alone. Heather…” John just groaned and fled to her room.

There was a beat of silence before Chuck spoke up. “I wonder if she’s masturbating.”

“You’re disgusting,” Eliza gagged.

 

xx

 

She entered the house and tried to squeeze past her parents, but her mother stopped her. “John, you’re home early, What’s wrong, kiddo?”

“P-Wash sent me home because my emotions are shit,” John sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

Eleanor sighed. “Emotions? Well, your dark horse dropped by, Alex?” _Oh, no._ “He told us everything.”

John tried to ignore the nausea that seemed to persist ever since she met Alex, before forcing a small grin. “Everything?”

“Your depression, your anxiety? Your thoughts of suicide?” Eleanor cocked a brow.

“I knew you’d been diagnosed with depression and anxiety, kid, but if you needed something, you could’ve told us,” Henry added.

“Also, he told us to give you this.” The elder woman handed John an envelope, which she slowly shoved into her backpack. “He told us to keep you away from toxic cleaners, guns, sharp objects…”

“Thanks, Mom,” John bit out before running up to her room. She slammed the door, flopped onto her pillow, and screamed into it. She beat at her headboard until her knuckles were bruised and bloody, she kicked the mattress until her feet hurt, she thrashed and cried. She needed to get rid of Alexander.

Curiosity got the best of her as she opened the envelope and pulled out the contents, but immediately dropped it onto the bed: a sheet of paper, in her handwriting, which said, _“Look what I learned.”_ She needed him gone. Dead, moved out, she didn’t give a shit. He needed to be gone.

“He’s got your handwriting down cold,” Heather Jefferson hummed from the ottoman near John’s bed, “enjoy your tantrum?”

“I thought I told you to leave me alone,” John muttered.

“Would you rather have Eliza? She wants to-“ Heather looked away and gagged, drain-o running from her mouth. “She wants to talk to you.”

“Fine.” And at that, Heather was sauntering out of her room, and Eliza passed through the door. “Look, I’m sorry.”

“It’s too late for that, John,” Eliza mumbled. “I’m dead, I can’t do shit, will you _please_ tell me the truth? Were Chuck and Jim murdered?”

John exhaled slowly. “Yeah. I killed Chuck, Alex killed Jim. We also killed Heather,” she admitted.

“I knew it! So the note was a lie? Was that really from Maria?” The hope in Eliza’s eyes killed John.

“I wish it was, Lizzie. I’m sorry for lying to you. But I found something out about her,” John smiled. “She told me while we were playing croquet. She’s gay.”

“She’s gay?! But her and Jim-! And Chuck!” Eliza gasped out.

“Jim was to hide that. They kissed once and Jim tried to take it further, Maria was uncomfortable, and he started that whole Chuck rumour. But she told me she’s gay,” John grinned and tried to grab Eliza’s hand, but she passed through the smaller girl.

“This is amazing! Oh, I have to tell her, I have to-“ Eliza stopped short, then slumped in her chair. “I have to be alive. Darn.”

“I’m so sorry, Lizzie. I’m a shit friend,” John felt herself growing sleepy as she pouted.

“Yeah, sorry, you are,” Eliza leaned against the wall. “But sleep for now, okay?”

John didn’t reply as she slowly fell asleep.

 

xx

 

“’You can’t ever find a place nice and peaceful, because there isn’t any.’ I like that, don’t you?” he asked as John jolted awake. “It’s very… ‘I hate life, let’s go commit suicide’-y. C’mon, try underlining something.” He tossed her a book. Heather Burr’s copy of _Catcher in the Rye._ John threw it back.

“Get off of my bed! What do you think you are? Because you’re not a rebel, _you’re fucking psychotic,”_ John spat.

Alex laughed darkly. “You say to-may-to, I say to-mah-to. Ooh, look,” he pointed at something and underlined it. “Eskimo. One word, I usually go for the whole phrase, but John! One word, that’s genius. Very mysterious, doll. Perfect-o. Eskimo… I love it.”

“Alex, stop!” John yelled as he yanked her collar, smashing their lips together. She shoved him off and ran, yelling, “Mom! Dad!”

They were dead in the living room. Both shot.

“Oh no! John, what’ve you done?” Alex asked as he tucked the familiar revolver into his coat. “Did you… Did John Laurens murder her parents because they just _didn’t get it?”_

“Alexander Hamilton, I swear to god, I’ll get you back- wait! Stop!” she screamed as Alex yanked her outside to her car. He produced her keys from his coat, shoved her inside, slid into the driver’s seat, and peeled out of the driveway. “Listen to me!”

“Shut the fuck up,” Alex glared as he approached a familiar home. _Fuck._ He stopped the car in the driveway and pulled her out, then into the house. They moved to the kitchen and Alex grabbed something from the sink.

“You’re not listening-“ John started, but Alex waved a dirty knife in her face.

“Nag, nag, nag, nag, _nag!”_ he screamed.

John grabbed the knife. “This thing’s filthy!” she exclaimed.

“Well, I ain’t taking her fucking tonsils out with it!” he shouted back.

“I know Heather better than you. She’s _pristine,_ even to her death. If she’s slitting her wrists, that knife would be spotless,” John stated and planted her hands on her hips.

Alex angrily cleaned the knife with a towel, then shoved it into her face. “ _There, can you see your fucking reflection?!”_ He was getting angrier by the second. John gulped. “Now then, suicide note.”

“Ha! I’m the-“ John stopped as she noticed Alexander perfectly imitating Heather’s writing as he wrote “LIFE SUCKS.” on a napkin. “Tomorrow, someone else is going to step into her spot. That could be me,” she realised.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Alex laughed. “Society nods its head to any horror the American teen can dream of. And with a marked-up copy of _Catcher,_ a suicide note, and a clean knife, what else do we need?” He dashed to Heather’s bedroom and locked the door behind himself. “Dinner!”

John awoke in a cold sweat, then immediately felt a tear run down her face. She grabbed her diary.

_Dear diary,_

_Last entry. No one can stop Alex. Not the FBI, the CIA, or the PTA. That’s to say, no one but me. I know what I’m dealing with. I know what he’s up to, and now, I’m going to put an end to this. Once and for all._

_Dear diary, goodbye._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the next chapter's gonna be the last, and i've already started on writing stuff for the college au. there's already porn for it. god help me.  
> i just added the last diary entry before posting this, i hope it's good! please leave me some comments, i miss those. shoutout to jojo for being a consistent rp buddy for me, and another shoutout to weiss because we've been together for three months now! love you, princess. <3  
> see you in the last chapter!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "’We, the students of Westerburg High, will die. Our burnt bodies may finally get through to you that your society turns out slaves and blanks. No thanks. Signed, the students of Westerburg High. Fuck you, and goodbye."

“Knock, knock!” Alexander shouted as he burst into the room, and John slammed her diary shut. “Sorry to let myself in, dreadful etiquette, I know.”

“Get out of my house!” John yelled as she backed herself into the closet. She locked the door and looked around frantically. A sheet. A hook at the very top. She knew what to do.

“C’mon, baby! Get out and get dressed, you’re my date for the pep rally tonight!” Alex kicked the door. “Don’t you get it?! You were wrong! I was right! _Strength,_ dammit!” After a moment of no response, he continued. “I was meant to be yours, don’t give up now! We aren’t finished with our work!”

 _“Our work_ isn’t _our_ work, Alexander! It’s _your_ psycho-murder shit!” John had started to cry now, from the sound of her voice through the wood door of the closet.

“John, open the door. Please. Can we stop fighting?” His voice was soft. Tender, even. “I know you’re scared, I was there once.” John didn’t reply, He heard something hit the door. “I’m giving you to the count of three. If you don’t let me in, I’m coming in.”

Alex aimed his revolver by the door handle. “One.”

He cocked it, ready to fire. “Two… Fuck it!” He fired, causing a large hole to blast into the closet door. He shoved his hand through and unlocked it, then gaped at what he saw.

John was hanging from the ceiling of her closet from a bedsheet, completely limp. Her body slowly swayed back and forth, meaning her _foot_ had hit the door earlier.

“John,” Alex gasped, dropping his gun. “I can’t believe you actually did it. I was only teasing, baby… I really did love you. Of course, I _was_ coming up here to kill you, but I wanted you to read my awesome petition, first. It’s great, because the students didn’t even know what they were signing.”

He slowly pulled the clipboard out of his pocket, then used a switchblade to peel away a sticker over what the petition was actually for. “’We, the students of Westerburg High, will die. Our burnt bodies may finally get through to you that your society turns out slaves and blanks. No thanks. Signed, the students of Westerburg High. Fuck you, and goodbye’,” he read. “Not very subtle, but neither is blowing up a whole school, right? And hey, it even rhymed! Kinda like when we were coming up with ideas for Heather’s suicide note.” He stared at John’s limp body, tears falling from his eyes. “John, we could’ve roasted marshmallows. Don’t leave me alone… You were all I could trust! I can’t do this all by myself.” He thought for a moment. “But, I’ll avenge you, John Laurens. This will be all for you. I’ll make sure of it.” He dashed to her window and climbed out.

Eleanor climbed up the stairs and opened the door to John’s room. “Dinner-“ she started, but began screaming at the sight of her daughter hanging from the ceiling.

John jolted and opened her eyes, then began screaming and crying, flailing her arms at her mother. “No! No, no, no, Mom, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! It’s just a joke, I’m sorry!” she wailed as she untied the noose, then let the harness she’d made around her waist from more of the bedsheet fall down. She clambered out of her closet and hugged her mother tightly, bawling into her shoulder. “It’s just a joke, I didn’t mean it! Mom, I’m so sorry!” she hiccupped.

Henry came running up the stairs as Eleanor yelled that it wasn’t funny. “What’s all the yelling about?” he asked.

“I’m sorry for being a horrible person, I suck. But I’m going out.” John yelled, crowding her parents out of her room and closing the door. Alex’s revolver was on the ground. She picked it up.

“John, when will you be back?” Henry asked.

“Sometime.” She dug through her closet and found her old clothes. Before all of this started. She yanked on a sweatshirt, old jeans, slipped some Converse onto her feet, then tucked the revolver into her bra. She opened the door and kissed her parents on their cheeks. “Mom, Dad, I love you.”

“We love you too, John,” Eleanor sighed, exasperated. “Stay safe, okay?”

John didn’t reply as she hurried out the door.

 

xx

 

“Hello?” Heather Van Rensselaer croaked into the phone.

“Heather, it’s me. John,” John replied, standing in the phonebooth.

“John? It’s like, two in the morning. What?” Heather yawned.

“Look, just don’t come to school today. Promise me you won’t.” She was frantic.

“John, what’s this about?”

“I can’t tell you. Just promise me you won’t come today.”

“Fine.” Heather’s response was late, but she was half awake.

“Thank you so much, Heather. I love you,” John smiled sadly into the receiver.

“Love you too. Goodnight,” Heather murmured as she hung up the phone.

She was going to school that day.

 

xx

 

John snuck into the school late, but Mrs. Knox stopped her immediately. “John Laurens? Alexander Hamilton told me you committed suicide last night,” she stated.

“Yeah?” John laughed. “He’s wrong about a lot of things. What’s under the gym?”

“The boiler room-“

“That’s it.” John ran toward the gym.

“John, what are you doing?! We have to talk-“ Mrs. Knox was cut off once again.

“Get a job!” John yelled and found her way to the boiler room. She pulled the revolver out of her bra as the door closed, and she stood atop the stairs. Alex passed by. “Step away from the bomb,” John commanded as she aimed the revolver at Alexander.

“I knew that loose was too noose,” he stuttered. “Noose too loose, I mean.”

“Step away from the bomb!” she yelled.

He laughed, unnerving John. “This little thing? I’d hardly call this puppy a bomb.” He turned to stride up to her, grinning. “This is just to trigger the packs of thermals upstairs in the gym! _Those are bombs.”_ He furrowed his brows as his grin widened. “People are gonna look at the ashes of Westerburg, and y’know what they’re gonna say? ‘There’s a school that self-destructed _not_ because society doesn’t care, but because _that school was society!’_ The only place Heathers and Elizas can get along peachy keen is in heaven!”

“Y’know what, Lexi? I wish your mom was still alive. I wish you didn’t think school’s a constant battle. I wish you had a good dad, I wish adults got it.” John didn’t fidget.

“Yeah? I wish I had more TNT, baby.” Alex grabbed John by the jaw.

“I wish I had bad boys like you out of my life.” John pulled away. Alex forced their lips together, but John kicked him in the nuts. He staggered behind some of the machinery. _Fuck,_ she thought as she cautiously looked for him. When he finally stumbled beside the bomb, she aimed the revolver at him again and checked the bomb timer. 1:00. “How do I turn this thing off?!” 0:57.

Alex raised his middle finger at her shakily. “Fuck you!!” he yelled. 0:49.

John was quick to shoot off his finger, and he screamed in agony. “How do I turn this thing off?!” She repeated. 0:41.

“The red button!” Alex spat. 0:38.

John checked the bomb… There were three. “Which one?!” she shouted frantically. 0:30.

Alex jammed his switchblade into the bomb, effectively stopping it before stumbling and falling. John smiled and snuck through the gym, then stood outside.

The world seemed more tranquil, knowing now that it was free of Alex and his destruction. It was over. Everyone was safe, Alex was dead, no one had to die anymore. The wind gently blew through her curls, and she smiled. However, she heard footsteps and got distracted.

Alex walked past her, and then opened his coat to reveal that he’d strapped the bomb to his chest. He set the timer for half a minute and looked to John. “Suppose I did succeed. And I did blow up the school. All the schools, even. Now that we’re dead,” he stammered, “what would you do?” 0:24.

John fumbled to pull a cigarette out of her jeans pocket. She held it up before placing it between her lips. 0:18.

Alex laughed, a bit scared. “Our love is god. Don’t forget me, okay?” 0:09.

John chuckled softly. 0:05.

“Our love is god.” 0:04. “Our love is god.” 0:03. “Our love is god.” 0:02. “Our love is god.” 0:01.

John finally spoke, “say hi to god.”

0:00.

The bomb went off, blowing Alex up and covering the entire area with immense heat, ashes, and general death. The smoke slowly, extremely slowly cleared, leaving John covered in Alexander’s blood and some ashes. She exhaled a cloud of cigarette smoke through her nose before walking into the school.

“John!” Heather Burr yelled, running up to the filthy girl. “What happened?! You look like hell.”

“Yeah? Well, I just got back.” John pulled the red scrunchie from Heather’s ponytail.

“What are you doing?” Heather tried to fight against John.

“Heather, my love, there’s a new sheriff in town,” John smiled as she tied her hair up into a ponytail with the scrunchie. She grabbed Heather by the shoulders, kissed her lips quickly, then ran off. Heather turned and watched, lightly touching her lips.

A small group walked past: Angelica, Philip, James Madison, Lafayette, Hercules, and Maria. “Guys! Wait up!” John yelled as she stumbled toward them.

“John?” Philip asked. “What happened What do you need?” The group stopped.

“Uh, I know it’s homecoming and all, and you can say no. But if you’re free, maybe you’d like to come over? Pop some Jiffy Pop, rent some tapes? Just be chill seventeen year-olds?” John offered a smile as she nervously fidgeted.

Angelica looked at the group and stepped forward. “I’d like that,” she grinned.

Slowly everyone else stepped forward, and they walked toward the exit.

 

xx

 

 

The sun set, casting pink and orange into the sky as they all huddled in John’s basement around the television. Popcorn bowls, snacks, pate, spaghetti, and other foods sat in bowls as John pulled out an old bottle of wine. She poured out enough cups for everyone, then held hers up. “I’d like to make a toast,” she smiled. “To us. To our revolution, our union, the hope we’ll make for this school. To the fact we survived this bullshit. To everyone who died: Heather Jefferson, Charles Lee, James Reynolds, Elizabeth Schuyler, and Alexander Hamilton. To everyone who lived. Most importantly though, to you guys.”

Lafayette lifted his cup. “To freedom,” he added.

“To France,” Hercules grinned and ruffled Lafayette’s hair, holding up his own cup.

“To tonight.” Philip raised his cup.

“To Westerburg, and all of its shit.” Maria lifted her cup.

“To the poor.” Angelica raised her cup.

“To John.” James held his cup in the air.

“To everything we said.” John and the others clinked their cups together and downed the wine.

Peace filled the room, and John smiled to herself. They didn’t have to live in fear anymore.

This story was only beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S DONE! I WROTE THIS IN UNDER AN HOUR, IT'S REALLY RUSHED AND SHITTY, I'M SORRY. BUT IT'S DONE! I FINISHED THIS!  
> but wait, what about everyone else? what happened to them?  
> looks like you'll find out in the epilogue. :))
> 
> shoutouts will be in the epilogue chapter notes. see you all in about an hour.


	13. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I know I said that the last entry would be my last. But I thought I’d update you on how everyone is doing._

_September 1 st, 1999._

_Dear diary,_

_I know I said that the last entry would be my last. But I thought I’d update you on how everyone is doing._

_Heather Burr ended up going back to green. She got much happier, much nicer, and we became close again. She studied law in college and is now a kick-ass lawyer._

_Heather Van Rensselaer changed her name. Her name is now Margaret, Peggy for short. She joined my little group. She’s in college right now, because she took some time to do activist stuff. I’ll get to that later. She’s studying to be a forensic scientist._

_Angelica Schuyler got married, so now she’s Angelica Church-Schuyler. She’s working overseas in London, she pursued science as well. She’s written a paper that’s really, really highly regarded, and she’s only twenty-eight. Super smart!_

_I found out that his full name is Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier de la Fayette. He moved back to France and married his best friend, Adrienne. He doesn’t have a job, but apparently he’s really well-off, so he has a really fancy home and stuff._

_Hercules Mulligan became a clothes designer. He never let anyone look down on him for it, which is amazing, and he actually designs and sews costumes for Broadway!_

_James Madison graduated as the class salutatorian, and he ended up working for the Make-a-Wish foundation. He’s helped so many kids’ dreams come true, and he’s living in California now._

_Philip Hamilton (no relation to Alex, surprisingly) ended up staying with me. I’ll get back to him._

_Maria Lewis started going out with Peggy after graduating class valedictorian. The two stood up for gay rights, in honour of Eliza and for themselves. Maria’s working as a therapist, too. We’re neighbours right now, and those two couldn’t be happier._

_Mom and Dad are in a retirement home off in Florida, I think. They don’t send letters anymore. I guess they’re happier there._

_And me? Heather, Chuck, Jim, and Eliza still haven’t left. Alexander joined, though. I ended up admitting what I did to the cops and spent a year in jail before Lafayette bailed me out. I’m living with Philip as friends next door to Maria and Peggy. Philip and I both pursued art, and it’s actually a really good money-maker._

_I just can’t wait to see everyone again… It’s only a matter of time, right?_

_end._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BEAUTIFUL IS NOW OFFICIALLY FINISHED! no more epilogues, no more of this. i'm gonna start working on my college au, so be sure to look out for that!  
> aw look, peggy and maria are happy together. aw.
> 
> shoutouts:  
> jojo, for being a good friend and being my beta that one time.  
> evan, for being a great qpp and supporting me through this story.  
> sterling, for sticking through this story with me.  
> averie, for getting excited when i update.  
> v, for helping me decide on who's who.  
> double-a, for always being a friend.  
> weiss, for being the best girlfriend ever.  
> and most importantly, all of you reading this. i probably wouldn't have continued this story this quickly if it wasn't for all of you. thank you all for reading this. i love you so much, and i'll see you in the college au.


End file.
